


What Lies Where Sight Denies

by therutherfordwife



Series: The Ailynn Lavellan Series [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blind Character, Blind Inquisitor, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:26:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therutherfordwife/pseuds/therutherfordwife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ailynn Lavellan hadn't known what to expect from the Conclave, but waking up in a cell with some strange magic burning on her hand was not anything she could have imagined. Now, apparently, she's the only one who can fix the gaping hole in the sky through which demons continue to pour out of. Can a blind Dalish elf really be sent by the Maker for all of Thedas?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Think They'd Realize

Ailynn woke cold. Not a new experience, to be sure, but what was unusual were the restraints on her wrists. She tested them carefully, and sighed to recognize that they would not be coming off without help. She could hear the small shifting of bodies around her, heavy breaths of nervous people. More than two, less than . . . seven? Close enough. She settled herself to wait for someone to explain when suddenly a sharp crackle snapped through the air, accompanied by a searing pain in her left hand. She cried out, curling over her burning hand, hearing the strange hissing emanating from her palm. As she gasped as the pain began to ebb, head snapping up in new fear as she heard a door open from in front of her and the sounds of sheathing weapons echoed through the room. She hadn't realized they'd had weapons on her. What was going on? The steps approaching were stern and heavy, the jingling of armor telling her the newcomer was a warrior of some kind. That person approached rapidly, then walked slowly around Ailynn while a second newcomer entered quietly, their sounds of cloth on mail. Probably a rogue. She forced herself to stare straight ahead, ignoring the urge for her eyes to follow every noise in the room.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you," spat a woman's voice from directly behind her. She jumped a bit at how close the sound was; the warrior woman must be leaning down. "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead . . . Except for you." There was an ominous note in her voice as she circled back to face Ailynn.

"What do you mean, everyone's dead? Wait, destroyed? The entire Conclave? How is that possible?" Her heart pounded as the woman's words penetrated in her mind. _All those people,_ she thought in growing horror. _Creators, and they think I'm responsible? Shit._

"Don't play games with me, elf. Explain this." A hand grasped her left wrist just as the hand crackled in pain again.

Ailynn gasped, wrenching her wrist free. "I . . . I can't!" She said through the pain. It seemed worse this time. "What's happening to my hand?" She curled her fingers, wishing she could rub her right hand over her palm to feel the injury, whatever it was. "And I don't know what happened to the Conclave! Whatever it was had nothing to do with me!" She might not know what had happened, but she knew she was in no way involved with the murder of thousands of people.

"You're lying!" Hands grasping her jacket before being pushed back by something else. 

"We need her, Cassandra!" A new voice, probably the second person who had entered the room. Another woman, the rogue, and with that carefully cultivated voice, probably a bard. The situation was getting more deadly by the minute. "Do you remember what happened? How this began?" She spoke with much more calm than Cassandra.

Ailynn struggled to recall the events before she had awoken in this place. "I don't . . . I remember running? Being chased by . . . things. And . . . a voice, a woman, calling out to me. She grasped my hand when I was close . . . Then nothing." It had been run or die. "I don't know where that was, nor the events leading up to it." She lapsed into silence.

There was a pregnant silence as the two women considered her words. Then suddenly a flurry of motion. Cassandra's strong steps crossed the room. "Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift. We will see if Solas is right about her mark."

Leliana. Fenedhis. There was only one Leliana that Ailynn knew of, and she was no mere bard. The Left Hand of the Divine. Which meant that Cassandra was Seeker Cassandra Penteghast, the Right Hand. And if the Conclave had been destroyed, herself the only survivor . . . The Divine's Hand's were probably aching for vengeance. 

Ailynn was hauled roughly to her feet as Leliana's steps disappeared. Cassandra's strong hands held her arm tightly as Ailynn was led from the room, stumbling over the unknown floor. 

"What did happen?" Ailynn said softly, not expecting a response. Cassandra's grip tightened.

"It will be easier to show you." Ailynn rolled her eyes internally.

The sounds of their steps changed as they made their way up a set of stairs. Cassandra huffed in frustration as Ailynn stumbled on every other step, as if she was doing it just to irritate her. They made their way through a large room, their footfalls echoing slightly. The smell of incense, the small warmth of many candles greeted them. Heavy doors creaked open before them, and Ailynn was led out into the cool mountain air. Snow crunched underfoot, the murmurs of many conversations and the ringing of a blacksmith's forge surrounding them. Cassandra halted, and Ailynn could tell as people noticed them that they were staring. Murmurs ceased, and over the ringing of the smithy she could faintly hear a dull roar, interspersed with hollow booms. The air was tense, as if everyone was waiting for inevitable bad news. Ailynn felt the eyes on her, and shifted in discomfort.

"We call it the Breach." Cassandra's voice broke Ailynn's train of thought. "It's a massive rift into the world of demons, and it's growing larger with each passing hour." As if on cue, Ailynn's hand crackled again. She cradled her bound hands as much as she was able, determined not to let the Seeker know how much it pained her. "It's not the only such rift; just the largest." She began to walk Ailynn forward again, passing the throngs of people. "All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

"An explosion can do that?" Ailynn took in all the information with a growing sense of dread. If they truly thought her responsible for all of this . . . 

"This one did. And unless we act, the Breach will continue to grow until it swallows the whole world." A resounding explosion came from the sky, accompanied by a lightning-like crackle. As if in answer, her hand gave a snap of it's own and the pain flared once more. Though Ailynn tried to hide how strong the pain was, she collapsed to her knees. Cassandra knelt beside her, her voice almost gentle now. "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads. And it _is_ killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time." She waited expectantly.

Ailynn took a deep breath, calming her pounding heart as the pain in her hand eased. "I understand."

"Then?"

I'll do what I can. Whatever it takes." Ailynn's voice was a whisper, her eyes closed tightly in an attempt to block the sounds from all around. This was all too much.

They stayed there for a moment, until Ailynn began to struggle to her feet. Cassandra's hand was on her arm again, guiding her through the village. The murmurs were back, getting louder and more angry with each step. Ailynn tried to ignore it, did her best to focus on her feet instead of Cassandra's explanations. Of course the people were angry. And of course they would blame her. She just wanted this day to end, wanted to wake up from this nightmare. Their feet crossed a stone bridge, the wind howling over and under the crossing, and then they were on a mountain path. As they crossed an outpost, Cassandra seemed to tire of leading the captive by hand. She released the restraints around Ailynn's wrists, cautioning her that running would not be advisable. Ailynn snapped her right hand over her left, rubbing her thumb over her palm. There was certainly something there; it didn't feel like a wound, exactly. It felt like a ribbon, but one that pulsed to its own beat and thrummed with energy. She heard Cassandra begin to move on, and quickly followed the Seeker's footsteps, still rubbing her palm. They were crossing their second bridge when a small explosion from above was followed by a shuddering of the stones beneath their feet. Ailynn had only enough time to let out a panicked shriek before the stones fell from beneath her feet.

The impact with the ice was jarring, but not as disabling as it could have been. Apparently, the bridge was not built to be very high above the river. Other than a few bruises, Ailynn would be fine. She pulled herself into a kneeling position, hearing Cassandra's cursing from some feet away. A strange sound moved around her, and she froze where she knelt. "Cassandra-" A sword being pulled from its sheath interrupted her, and a creature's hiss was met with the sounds of a hacking sword. Ailynn stood quickly, aware of something moving toward her. Something that was between her and the questionable protection of the Seeker. "Cassandra!" Panic gripped her as a hissing creature slid over the ice toward her. Ailynn ducked to her left, her arms braced in front of her so she didn't accidentally run headlong into anything. Her feet, however, had no such warning, and her toes betrayed her on a piece of rubble from the bridge. She tumbled down once more, sliding across the icy river until she rested against a large rock. Whatever it was that was attacking them took the opportunity to rush in. She could hear it coming, but knew it was too close to evade and anyway, she would only run into something again. She threw her hands up to delay the inevitable, but just as the creature reached her there was a shout and a crash, followed several thuds. Cassandra's breath was ragged as she approached Ailynn.

"Are you all right?"

Ailynn swallowed. She hated being helpless. She wished she had her daggers at least, but she had been stripped of her weapons before she woke. She took a shaky breath, missing the feel of the grooved hilts in her hands. "Not particularly, but I don't think that's any concern of yours right now, is it?" A bitter laugh escaped her.

Cassandra was silent for a moment. "Do you have any skill in combat?" She finally asked.

Ailynn's head snapped up to the voice in sudden hope. "I can fight with daggers."

A sigh. Then the sounds of something being unbuckled. "Here, then. I cannot expect you to be defenseless. I doubt these will be the last demons we encounter." Something struck Ailynn on the arm.

"What was that for? You can't just go throwing things at people, you know!" Her words were angry, but her hands scrambled to find the object that had hit her. Her fingers closed around the pair of sheaths that had fallen next to her, clutching them desperately to her as if they would disappear.

Cassandra's voice was puzzled. "You were looking straight at me when I tossed them to you. From what I have seen, you do not have slow reflexes. I had thought you capable of catching them. Are you certain you are not injured?"

"Only as injured as a blind woman." Ailynn didn't bother to keep the frustration out of her voice. _You'd think that they'd have figured it out by now,_ she thought.

"You're . . ! But you-" Cassandra was certainly confused now. "No, wait. The stairs in the Chantry, all your stumbling in Haven and on the path. You haven't stared at the Breach like everyone else." She sighed. "I should have realized. I am sorry I did not think to ask sooner; I thought you were just being frustrating." She reached down to pull Ailynn up. 

"Don't do that, Seeker." Ailynn pushed her hands away and rose on her own. "I'm blind, not incapable. I will need a bit of help out of all of these rocks, however, or I'm going to have a very nicely bruised nose in a few minutes." She reached toward where she knew Cassandra stood, taking hold of her arm. The two made their way toward the rift once more.

 

 

Ailynn slashed violently at the demon in front of her, halting its approach and spinning to catch the one on her left before it got behind her. She heard the twang as Varric's well aimed bolt caught the first one, its wail disappearing as it melted back into the rift. She brought her dagger up into the demon she was focused on, felt her blade catch on an arm and immediately brought her other dagger up and around the flailing limb into its face. It joined the other in the rift, and the whispering above them pulsed energy for a moment before snapping open. Ailynn wasted no time in thrusting her left hand toward the crackling rift, feeling her mark burst with energy that pulled violently at the rift, forcing it closed. Her mark flared at the exertion, a cry escaping her lips once more. She cradled the hand to her chest, massaging it until the pain ebbed. 

"Are you all right, da'len?" Solas' hand brushed her back, steadying her as she recovered. His hand was delicate, small, but strong as well. She nodded, allowing him to lead her away from the the smell of demons and Fade. It was all so strange, so many new scents and sounds. There was too much going on for her to get a good idea of the world around her anymore. The more rifts they fought through, the more her mark pained her and the more exhausted she became. The sounds of fighting around them had ceased when the rift was sealed, and she became aware of an approaching person. Heavy footfalls, this time, and heavy armor. Muffled. Probably has on a cloak.

"Cassandra! You managed to close the rift! Well done." An appreciative voice, a man this time. 

Cassandra grunted. "Do not congratulate me, Commander. This was the prisoner's doing." _I have a name,_ Ailynn thought angrily. She heard the two walk closer, and his voice spoke again.

"Is it?" A strange tone, wonder and a little bit of trepidation. "I hope they're right about you. We lost a lot of good men getting you here." She gritted her teeth. That wasn't her fault. She hadn't asked for any of this, hand't asked for anyone to risk their lives for her.

"I won't make any promises, Commander. I can only do what I can do."

"That's all I can ask." His armor creaked a bit as he moved. "The way to the Temple is clear. Leliana will try to meet you there."

"Then we'd better move quickly. Give us time, Commander." Varric came forward, his hand taking hold of Ailynn's as they began to move once more. As they left, Ailynn heard a quiet voice, almost drowned out by the sound of stomping feet and worried voices. 

"Maker watch over you. For all our sakes."

 

The Temple felt strange. It smelled of burned flesh and fire, but also of something angry. When Varric mentioned the red lyrium, Ailynn had become aware of the soft humming song that drifted through the air. She had drifted toward it in curiosity, only to be pulled back by Varric. "Don't touch it," was all he said. They made their way further into the temple, Cassandra becoming more angry and stiff the closer to the first rift they got. Solas was also tense, though his only demonstration of this was growing sense that he was controlling his movements too much. Varric was openly agitated, though Ailynn felt that at this point it was more because of the red lyrium. Curious that it affected him so much. She wondered what experience he had with it. Her mind was growing more fuzzy, her concentration failing to pick out nuances in sound and smells. When the man spoke from the rift, it sent a shock through her, as sense that something was incredibly wrong, but she couldn't remember what it was. They moved to the rift, Leliana's scouts taking up positions around the temple in preparation for anything that might come from the rift once she opened it again. The humming and crackling from the breach was pounding through Ailynn, further deteriorating her concentration. The rift below the breach was closed, silent, and Solas helped her reach her hand toward it to pull it open.

Immediately, there was an explosion, followed by a reverberating roar. Something incredibly large thudded to the ground in front of them, and the shouts of the scouts and Cassandra were followed by the pings of arrows and the pounding of a sword. Bianca joined the fray, and the coldness that grew suddenly on her left told her that Solas was also joining the fray. Grinding her teeth together, Ailynn darted forward, trusting the archers to not hit her and avoiding Cassandra's reach. She fell onto the heavy leg of the demon, her daggers clawing into its flesh. Anchoring herself with one thrust of a dagger, she stabbed into its flesh with the second and then pulled downward as hard as she could. The demon roared, collapsing onto its knee. The fighters took advantage of its weakness, doing as much damage as they could. Ailynn could hear more demons coming from the rift, but none were so large as this. She focused on its other leg, determined for it not to rise again. A taloned hand raked down her back, and she whipped around with her dagger to catch it in the throat. Lucky slash, that, but she wasn't going to argue with fortune today. She heard demons perishing around her, and swayed on her feet as she turned to the rift. From the sound of things, the fighting was nearly over. That meant that soon . . . sure enough, the rift above her exploded suddenly. She didn't hesitate before thrusting her marked hand toward it. She could feel the blood dripping down her back, her hand felt like it was ripping apart. The rush of blood in her ears drowned out every other sound, and her only coherent thought was _Please let this be enough to end this._ Suddenly, the rift pulsed and closed, the backlash throwing her onto her back. The impact forced the air from her lungs, and dimly she heard shouts around her. A voice close to her was insistent, but she didn't want to focus on that right now. She just wanted air. Air and sleep.

"-with us! Prisoner, stay with us!" Cassandra's panicked voice finally broke through, and she felt hands on her shoulders and arms pulling her up. As her lungs managed to find themselves again, she choked out an angry response.

"My name is Ailynn, for goodness sake!" And then the world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ailynn must teach her new friends how to help her function in a new environment.

Ailynn woke in a groggy haze. Her head pounded, and she groaned as she rolled over in her bed. 

Wait. Bed?

She sat up quickly, hands groping around her wildly for a moment. Definitely a bed. And new clothes. Creators, where had those come from? Hopefully the colors matched. She found the edge of the bed and draped her legs carefully over the side, bracing herself to rise in an unknown place once more. She took a deep breath when a door squeaked open somewhere in front of her, and light steps were followed by a gasp and the sound of several things hitting the floor.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you! Please forgive me!" The voice was feminine, breathless in fear and awe. What was going on?

"It's all right, I just-"

"Lady Cassandra said to inform her when you woke! At once!" Shuffling, then quick steps away.

"Wait, I-"

"At once, she said!" The door slammed again. Ailynn huffed to herself. She had several dilemmas to consider; she had no idea where she was, nor what had happened since their attempt to close the Breach. She wasn't chained, though, so that was a definite improvement. And she knew generally where the door was, though the floor between where she sat and there was now strewn with who knew what. Should she wait for Cassandra? The girl hadn't said Cassandra wanted to see her, only that she wanted to know when she woke. She steadied her breathing, trying to soothe the anxious pit in her stomach as she gingerly rose to her feet. Taking slow, cautious steps and holding her hands before her to avoid any walls, she began to try to locate the door. Her toes brushed against something, and she gently shoved it out of the way with her foot. Her hands met suddenly with a strong wooden wall, and she traced her hands to either side to locate the door frame. Taking one last deep breath, Ailynn pushed the door open and stepped into the chill mountain air. She was greeted by the sudden silencing of many voices, the low constant sounds of a town ceasing suddenly around her. She tensed unconsciously, not knowing what had brought this about. Whispers began to permeate the air. _"That's her!" "The Herald of Andraste!" "Our savior!"_ Who were they talking about? Ailynn held herself in place, trying to keep the panic from overwhelming her.

"My lady?" That voice. Familiar. Her head whipped around, ears searching for the source. "Are you all right?" The sounds of the Commander's armor clanking as he strode toward her were as much a blessing as the gentle way he spoke to her. The knot in her stomach eased. 

"Commander. What is going on here? Where are we? Who's this Herald everyone is whispering about, and did it work? Is the breach gone?" Words tumbled from her, now that a source of information was standing beside her. 

"Well, currently, we are back in Haven. You've been unconscious for three days." She absorbed that with shock. Three whole days?! "The Breach remains." Her face melted in self-loathing, before he interrupted her thoughts with earnest reassurances. "You absolutely did everything you could, and you did succeed in halting it's growth. Demons are no longer pouring forth as they had been, as well. You saved . . . Well, everyone. We are in your debt." 

"Am I still to be a prisoner?" She tried to keep the fear out of her voice. 

"No! Absolutely not!" Surprise shaded his voice. "Too many people heard the voice at the temple, we know you aren't responsible for that. Not that we know who is, but that will come later. For now, we will continue to see if we can find a way to seal the Breach permanently. We were hoping for your help, actually." A note of caution. Probably trying not to scare her off. "As for your question about the Herald, I can tell you only that every person is currently staring at you." 

"Me?" The word squeaked out. 

"Well, you did fall out of the Fade in front of a mysterious woman, and then promptly presented us with the only solution to a problem that could potentially destroy the world. So, yes. They think you the Herald of Andraste." There was a pleased note he tried to hide behind his words, but her ears were skilled at finding the nuance of what people said. She wondered why this made him so happy. "Now, let's get you up to the Chantry so we can discuss events with Cassandra and Leliana." His footsteps marched quickly away. 

"Commander?" Ailynn was keenly aware of all the people around her, all of them apparently watching her intently. His steps stopped. "Mind lending me your arm?" 

"What? But . . . oh. Of course." She could practically feel the heat of his blush, obvious in the hesitation of his words. Gently, his steps returned, her now outstretched arm being met by his cold armor. She quickly slid her arm around his, grateful that his armor prevented him from feeling how hard she clung to him. 

"You'll have to tell me if there's any stairs. I don't fancy falling on my face in front of a whole town of people," she whispered out the side of her mouth. 

"I would never let you fall." She felt her face redden this time. Together, they made their way to the Chantry. 

The shouting match between Rodrick and Cassandra that greeted them was enough to make Ailynn's ears hurt. They twitched uncomfortably as Cullen led her to the door, and when Rodrick slammed the door shut with all his might the acoustics of the building amplified the sound enough that her ears positively rung. She recognized the auspiciousness of the events she was witness to, tales of the old Inquisition gracing even the fires of her clan. To declare it reborn . . . Dark times indeed. Cassandra had been quick to introduce her properly to Leliana, as well as their new diplomat Josephine. She was just as interesting as the two Hands, but for entirely different reasons. She spoke clearly and precisely, never letting anything slip through her iron control of herself. Ailynn imagined her face was probably just as rigid as her voice, exposing nothing she need hide. It was also here that she discovered the Commander's name; Cullen Stanton Rutherford, former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall. That had been a surprise. She wondered how he had ended up with the Inquisition, as well as why he was so adamant about being known as a "former Templar." The five of them had discussed for hours all the possibilities for closing the Breach, finally settling on the inevitability of needing either the Templars or Mages. Josephine had bluntly reminded them that as an organization, they were young and without ally. She insisted that they remedy this before attempting to gain the aid of either of the warring parties. Privately, Ailynn agreed, though throughout the meeting she had said little, preferring to listen instead, learning as much as she could about these strange people from what they did and said. 

"Herald? Did you hear me?" Josephine's voice broke through her thoughts, just the right amount of exasperation. Ailynn pulled her hand from where she had been absently tracing the map, trying to pretend she could see the world with her fingers. 

"I'm sorry, my mind wandered. What were you saying?" 

"Since you have agreed to join us, and will be working directly with the rest of us, I am going to be having copies of all reports sent to you as well. You will need to review them when you are otherwise unoccupied and send any notes back to me once you are done." There was a decisive tap of quill on wood. "Now then, if we can just-" 

"Um, Josephine?" Ailynn interrupted. Leliana gave a small exhale out her nose, probably guessing Ailynn's thoughts. 

"Yes?" Irritation. Well then. 

Ailynn smiled sweetly toward the voice. "As much as I look forward to working with you all, if you want me to review reports, you're going to need to find someone to read them to me. Preferably someone who can also write my notes for me." She let the ice drip on her words. She hated when people just _assumed._ Even if it was simple forgetfulness, she felt growing anger. Her sight might be of trivial importance to others, but it was certainly a major influence on _her_ life. They could at least _pretend_ that they were considerate of her needs. 

There was an awkward pause. Josephine stammered out an apology, assurances flying from her lips that compensations for her disability would be made. Ailynn ignored them. Apologies mattered little, what she wanted was awareness. If she was going to be their Herald, they needed to understand that she was neither fragile nor incapable. They just had to be aware, at the same time, that there were things she simply _could not_ do like everyone else. Reading was one such thing. 

The meeting came to a close not long after, and she heard the group move to leave. Remembering how the Commander had led her through the building, she followed them swiftly. Josephine broke from the group, passing through a door on the right. Leliana and Cassandra both went through a door on the left, talking quietly about their current predicament. Cullen's footsteps made their way back to the entrance, Ailynn following close behind. 

"Commander, a moment?" He stopped so suddenly that she collided with him. Apparently, he had turned to face her, and her reaching arm had slid right past his shoulder. 

"Maker's breath, are you all right?" Strong hands gripped her shoulders, pulling her up so he could see her face. She gingerly rubbed her nose, 

"I'm fine. It's nothing I haven't done countless times before." The hands on her shoulder twitched a bit at that. Pity? Before he could speak again, she plowed on with what she had wanted to say. "Look, I know you're the Commander and everything, and you have a lot of work to do and troops to train and such, but I was wondering if you could help me find Varric? Or Solas? I need someone to take me around Haven for the next few days, just until I know it well enough on my own to find my way. I can't be monopolizing your arm all the time, for sure. I'd hate to be a nuisance." 

His hands relaxed, dropping from her. "Of course, Herald. Think nothing of it; you are hardly a nuisance." He guided her hand to the crook of his arm once more. "If you don't mind me asking, how long have you been . . . Like this?" 

She laughed. "You mean blind? All my life. I've never known anything different." 

"Is it terribly inconvenient?" Curiosity, but without condescension. Interesting. 

"Not really." She considered. "Well, sometimes, yes. Like earlier, when I came out of that cabin. I couldn't see, and no one was talking, but I could hear them all around me. I knew they were there. And I had no idea where I was, or what had happened, and I didn't know where to go and no one would talk to me!" She paused. "Waking up in a strange bed, in a place I've never been, and I can't _see_ anything. It can get frustrating, knowing that there's so much that's so obvious to everyone else, while to me it might as well not even exist unless I run into it nose first." She rubbed her nose again, to emphasize her point. 

"Is there anything I-that is, we, could do to make anything easier for you?" He was so earnest, she could hear it in his voice! It was utterly adorable. 

"I'll let you know as things come up. I can make a lot of adjustments on my own, but if it's anything major you'll be the first to know." She smiled, none of the ice of earlier in how her lips curled up. Then she had a sudden thought. She pulled him to a stop. "Actually, if you wouldn't mind . . ." she hated asking people this, especially when they didn't have any experience with the blind. But Creators, she was curious now. 

She felt him turn to face her. "What is it?" 

"Would it be all right if I . . . touched your face?" She couldn't keep the uncertainty out of her voice. 

"You want to touch my face?" He sounded completely baffled. "I . . . suppose? Yes?" 

Ever so gently, she brought her left hand to his chest, following the breastplate up to his neck, then chin. She tugged softly, pulling his face down. As he bent, she snaked her right hand from his arm and gently pushed him to a kneeling position, then brought that hand to cup his cheek. Hands soft as feathers, she traced the lines of his face as he looked up at her. She loved discovering new faces, hated how strange and uncomfortable most people were with this. But Cullen, despite his confusion, was at ease. She could feel his lips curling up at the corners as she brushed her fingertips across his lips. She felt the roughness of his unshaven cheeks, felt the heat as they reddened from her touches. She found the scar that fell across his soft lips. There was a tiny cleft in his chin, and despite the sternness of his cheekbones he had tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Those eyes were graced with long lashes, and his brow was as strong as his hands. Her hands crept into his hairline, reveling in the softness of his hair. _He takes good care of his hair,_ she giggled to herself. Every man needed a vice, she supposed. When her hands found his ears, she was stopped by his hands interrupting her exploration. 

"Your hands are cold," he explained when she made a dissatisfied sound. 

"Ah. Sorry." 

He stood. "That was . . . fascinating. Do you do that to everyone?" 

"Anyone who lets me. Faces can tell you much about a person." 

"What does mine tell you about me?" 

"That you are strong, but your strength has not made you harsh." She paused. "That you have been hurt, but you haven't let the hurt conquer you." He trembled slightly, her hand back on his arm catching the slight movement. She raised an eyebrow. Apparently that was significant, though as yet she had no idea why. He gave a shaky laugh as he led the way once more. Someday he would tell her. 

Someday. Ailynn smiled at the thought. 


	3. The Journey Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cassandra is smothering and Ailynn learns new ways to fight.

"Are you sure about this?" The beast snorted in front of her, its warm breath brushing against her face.

"You have ridden halla before, have you not? A horse is much the same." Solas' reassurances did little to quell her discomfort.

"This is _not_ a halla." Halla made sense. Halla were quick, agile, and intelligent. This thing whose reigns she held was cumbersome, heavy, and unyielding. Why did it keep twitching so? What was that swishing sound? "Halla are peaceful and regal. This thing is as regal as a stone, and as peaceful as a wolf. Why does it never stop moving?" Irritation rang in her voice.

"Because it senses your discomfort, and is in turn discomfited. If you are at ease, so shall it be." Humor to match her irritation in his words. Ailynn flushed at the thought of him finding anything about this situation funny. She hated when people laughed at her. 

A little ways to her right, she could hear Varric and Cassandra arguing. Something about Varric wanting to bring extra parchment, and Cassandra not seeing any use for it. Those two bickered back and forth like an old married couple, picking fights over the silliest things and raging back and forth until every argument was exhausted. She was fairly certain that Varric, at least in part, goaded Cassandra on purpose; no one could sound that innocent all the time. Around her, the sounds of hooves on stone and the jangle of saddles and stirrups was a strange cacophony as their small party prepared to head to the Hinterlands. Feet scuffled to and fro, last minute additions to packs and quick messages to be relayed before the team left. 

"Do I have to use the saddle?" She knew her voice was petulant, but she didn't really care at the moment. She did not want to ride this pretend-halla, especially not in some infernally strange contraption meant to "cushion" her bottom. Humans must have fragile bums.

"Mala suledin nadas, da'len," he said softly. She sighed.

"Halam'shivanas," she replied, her tone dripping with irony. "How soon until we leave, now?"

"Only a few minutes. It would be wise to mount." He gave a small grunt as she heard him pull himself on top of his own horse, settling into saddle carefully.

Ailynn cautiously reached forth to find the creature's neck with her right hand, her left clenched tightly around the reigns as she made her way to the saddle. She found the stirrup with her free hand, then reached up to clasp the horn of the saddle, placing her foot in the stirrup before attempting to heave herself over the horse's back. Really, did it have to be so big? The horse danced a bit as she pulled herself up, and she felt herself losing balance as she began to sway too far back. She let out a small shriek as she fell, only to come to an abrupt halt in someone's arms.

"Herald! I had come to see if you needed any last minute help, and, well . . ." She'd been so focused on the damn horse she hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings, not even hearing his armor shuffle as he walked.

"Commander. Impeccable timing, as always," she said breathlessly. "Mind helping me into the saddle?" His arms were strong around her waist, and his chuckle at her tenacity brought a responding grin to her face. He set her down, moved his hands to her hips, and with seemingly little effort lifted her up so she could kick a leg over the back of the horse. She settled herself as best she could, unused to the fidgeting of the massive creature between her legs and quite unsure what exactly she was supposed to do with the reigns. Fortunately, that was apparently not to be her problem, a plodding of hooves approached and Cassandra insistently took them from her with a sigh. 

"Is that really necessary, Cassandra?" Cullen asked. "I'm sure she can manage a horse on her own. She has ridden halla, after all."

"I will not be responsible for losing the Herald because her horse bolted and she could not direct it back to us. We need her, Cullen, and I am not going to risk her over something so easily preventable." Cassandra's voice was stern, defensive even. 

"Wait, what's she doing?" Ailynn reached out, leaning forward and sliding her hand along the neck of the horse, searching for the reigns and Cassandra. A large hand closed around her fingers, pushing them back toward her.

"The Seeker is tying your reigns to a lead rope." He sighed. "You won't have to direct the horse yourself this way; it'll follow Cassandra because the reigns are now attached to her saddle." A hint of disapproval in his voice echoed her own thoughts.

"I am perfectly capable of directing any four-legged riding beast, not matter how unusual," she grumbled at him, keeping her words quiet so as not to further irritate the high strung Seeker. 

"I'm sure she'll figure that out eventually. Just . . . stay safe, all right?" He coughed. "She is right, you know, we do need you." Something strange was in his voice, but she couldn't decide what it was. "I will meet you upon your return, Herald." His hand left hers, and she heard him move away. For a brief moment, she was disoriented by his absence, wanting his hand back on hers, wanting his softness. She appreciated so greatly his trust in her abilities; when she said she was capable of something, he didn't even question her, letting her set her own standards and only helping her when she deliberately asked for assistance. 

The last week had been a trial for her, floundering her way around Haven, trying to learn the new streets and people and routines. The forge was easy to find, as was the tavern; Varric had taken to setting up his tent outside her own cabin (a whole cabin to herself!) and walking with her in the mornings, describing the small town and the people who constantly bustled about. He seemed to enjoy her wonder at his words, her exclamations of delight when he said something particularly fascinating. He asked questions as well, genuinely curious about how she viewed the world, how she had adapted to the world without her eyes. Afternoons were spent with Leliana, Cassandra, Josephine, and Cullen going over reports before dinner in the tavern, the rousing atmosphere and easy laughter easing her out of the stress of the day. At night, she walked alone through Haven, tasking herself to find her way without aid and cursing scorchingly when she lost her way until one of Leliana's people took pity on her and led her back to her cabin. Ailynn hoped the spymaster was amused by the reports she got on those evenings. Creators knew Ailynn wasn't.

"Enough chatter, we must be on our way. We have wasted enough time as it is." Cassandra's irritation bled into her words, and Ailynn only had time to grasp the saddle horn before her beast was jolted around by the lead rope, following swiftly after the Seeker. She heard Varric and Solas muttering behind them as they followed, but she couldn't make out what was being said over the clatter of hooves. Ailynn settled herself in the saddle for the long ride ahead, resigning herself to the boredom of traveling with the surly Seeker.

 

 

"How in the Maker's name did you manage to get up there?" Cassandra's voice burst through the chill morning air, the birds just beginning to call the start to the new day. Ailynn almost fell from her perch in surprise; she hadn't thought the Seeker would look up, let alone be able to see her if she did. 

"I climbed," came the impish reply. Cassandra let out a scoff of pure disgust.

"And just how did you plan on coming down?"

"By climbing." Ailynn didn't bother to hide the humor in her voice. The air smelled crisp, clear, and fresh, the birdsongs were dancing through the world around them, and the dew that coated everything was enchanting against Ailynn's wandering touches. Cassandra would not spoil this magical moment as night finally gave way to dawn.

Solas' chuckle crept to where Ailynn was sitting, high up in a tree by their camp. "Da'len, might I ask why you chose to investigate the high branches this morning?"

"I didn't. I came up last night and slept here." There was a quiet, enraged gasp from the Seeker. Solas said nothing, but Varric's muffled voice came from his tent.

"Andraste's holy ass, kid, you're gonna give someone a heart attack. Quit taunting the Seeker and get down! Breakfast is coming." 

Ailynn allowed the grin to spread over her face, deftly curling forward to wrap her arms around the broad branch she had claimed and swinging down with surety. Remembering the path she had climbed the night before, her feet found the next limb of the tree and within moments she was standing before her companions. There was a moment of stunned silence. Without a word Ailynn brushed herself off and swept to where her tent had been set up, quickly exchanging her clothes. By the time she rejoined the group, the delicious smell coming from where the fire crackled had her mouth watering. She ran her booted foot over the ground until her toe bumped against one of the logs they'd placed by the fire, and she hastily took a seat. Varric passed her a plate and without hesitation she scarfed down the warm meal, hopeful that the eating would discourage conversation. Listening to Cassandra give her new rules every day was wearying beyond belief, especially when she disregarded them immediately. 

"I expect that this incident will not happen again." Drat. No such luck.

"I don't know what part of this can be called an 'incident,' Cassandra. No one was hurt, no one was in danger. Nothing that happened was particularly 'incidental.'"

"And what if you had fallen? What if you had gotten stuck? I doubt any of us would be able to climb to reach you." The edge on her voice cut into Ailynn's good mood.

"I am perfectly capable of climbing trees. I have been doing so my entire life with very few incidents, none of which has happened in the last 15 years. I'm not incapable just because I can't see." She turned her head towards the Seeker, hoping her gaze was close enough to her target that she would still feel the brunt of the glare. "Just because _you_ wouldn't be able to do something without your eyes, doesn't mean that I can't."

"Shit, where's my paper-" Varric could be heard shuffling through his pack, but Ailynn's attention was on Cassandra. She was tired of the woman's disregard of her capabilities. Shit, the woman had already fought with her and seen firsthand what Ailynn could do without her sight. She hadn't even realized she was blind for the whole first hour they had known each other! Granted, Ailynn hadn't exactly been allowed to act for herself during most of that hour, but still. Ailynn took a deep breath.

"Seeker Penteghast. I appreciate what you are _trying_ to do. Truly, I do. But I did not get this far in life without learning how to care for myself. If I say I am capable, it is because I am capable. If I don't ask for help, I don't need it. And I do know my limits; I do know when to ask for help. And if I should need any, I can even promise that you will be the first I ask for it. But you cannot keep trying to keep me 'safe.' I am not here to be babied about and kept in the back until I'm needed; if I'm going to be part of this whole mess, I mean to be part of the _whole_ mess, falling in the dirt and riding horses and running into things and all. I will need help that you are not used to giving, and on occasion I will even need help with really stupid things and things that are annoying and obvious. But unless I specifically ask for your input or aid, please, for your love of the Maker, _back the fuck off."_

The camp was dead silent. Ailynn was sure everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the imminent explosion. She kept her face stony. There was a sigh, and footsteps approached quickly before a hand gripped her arm and pulled her from her seat.

"Hey-!"

"Walk with me." Resignation. Ailynn allowed herself to be pulled from the small camp, the tense hand on her arm telling her that Cassandra was merely frustrated, not angry. Finally, when they were out of earshot from the two men, they came to a stop.

"I do not usually do this, so listen carefully." Her voice was strained. "I . . . apologize. For the way I have treated you. You are right; I have coddled you, even after seeing you as a capable warrior and person. I should not have done so. I should remember that you are not helpless."

"I don't expect you to understand what I need or what I can and cannot do immediately, Cassandra." Ailynn crossed her arms. "But you have not, until this moment, ever bothered to ask me any of those questions." Anger bled into her own voice, though she kept it even.

"I know. I have never met anyone like you, I admit. It is . . . an adjustment, from what I have known to what I see before me. Those I have met before with your ailment were not . . . particularly capable." She sighed.

Ailynn relaxed marginally. "I was raised with the Dalish, Cassandra. Riding halla and traipsing through forests and across rivers and even in cities on occasion. My father made sure learned to take care of myself. I can't paint, I can't tell time, I can't read. I run into things, I trip over things, I wear horribly mismatched clothes on occasion and am pretty much a walking fashion disaster the rest of the time. I have no idea what you look like, and I love the dawn but have never seen a sunrise. But I can fight. I can learn, and I can hunt, and I can certainly direct a horse and climb a tree without hurting myself or others."

"And I should remember that. I have been a poor companion to you, Herald, and I would be a better one in the future, if I can." She hesitated. "Is there . . . anything I can do to make this whole mess less uncomfortable for you?"

Ailynn smiled. The Seeker was apparently capable of adapting. Wonders never would cease. She stepped toward Cassandra, raising a hand. "May I?" 

Cassandra took a step back, her foot light on the ground. Then she relaxed, returning to the outstretched hand. "If you feel it necessary." 

Ailynn chuckled to herself. The Seeker probably thought she was going to hit her. Instead, the reached toward the voice until her fingers brushed her cheek. Cassandra flinched at the touch, but when Ailynn didn't move to strike she gave a small huff and remained still. Bringing her other hand to the other cheek, she trailed her fingers softly around Cassandra's face. So stern, this woman. Jaw muscles strong, and clamped tightly. Probably made this expression often. Her fingers trailed a scar on the woman's left cheek, curious at what had caused such a wound. She gently traced her nose, then around the eyes. "Do you always glare?"

"How did you know I was-"

"Your nostrils are flared, and your eyes are tight. No smile lines on your cheeks, no laugh lines about your eyes." High cheekbones, as chiseled as armor. Ailynn rubbed her palms across Cassandra's forehead, then gently ruffled her fingers through the woman's short hair, tracing the braid that ringed her head. "What color is your hair?"

"Dark." Curiosity grew on her voice. "Can I ask what it is you are doing?" 

"I'm looking at you." Her hands fell to her side, her exploration finished.

"Looking?" 

"With my fingers. I had no idea you had a scar on your cheek. What's it from?"

"I'm afraid-" Before she could continue, Ailynn caught a faint noise. She whipped her head around, ears trying to follow the strains of noise through the air to pick out the source. Faint yelling, a scream of pain, clashing of steel.

"Fighting!" She pointed to the noise. "From over there!"

Cassandra wasted no time. "Varric! Solas!" _I believe that is what is referred to as a parade grounds voice,_ thought Ailynn as her ears rang slightly with the proximity of Cassandra's shout. Cassandra took off running, and Ailynn could hear two pairs of boots coming from the direction of their camp as she took of after the Seeker. The fighting grew louder, shouts of anger and and screams of pain curling around her ears as smoke burned into her nose.

"Apostates and Templars!" Solas shouted.

"Inquisition soldiers!" Cassandra cried.

Shit. How was she supposed to know who to hit with her daggers if some of the fighters were on her side? Pounding feet came raced toward her, and she ripped her daggers from their sheath and braced them before her, ready to respond if the approaching person attacked. 

"Hold up, Viper, I had an idea." She relaxed. Varric.

"Viper?" 

"Complain later. Listen, I know you can't tell who's on our side, so I'm going to go up the hill and start peppering all our little friends here with bolts. You know how to tell the difference between a crossbow bolt and an arrow when it hits?"

"Arrows hit softer, bolts punch." She grinned in anticipation.

"Exactly. You hear a punch, rip into it." The dwarf's heavy footfalls sprinted away.

Ailynn stood calmly in the center of chaos, listening to the world around her. The noise was overwhelming, the scents of dirt and fire and ice piercing the air. She took a deep breath, calming her beating heart, forcing her breath to relax in her chest and the knot in her stomach to relax. She allowed the tremors of the ground to roll up her legs, steadying herself on the balls of her feet, ready to move. She retreated momentarily into herself, blocking out the noise and the smells, focusing on the tremors in her feet. Forcing the world to quiet. Forcing herself to put order into this chaotic world.

_Thwak!_

Without hesitating, Ailynn spun toward the sound on her left, daggers colliding solidly with an assailant. They gave a cry of shock, Ailynn using the noise to locate their head as she swept an arm up to slice across their face, their voice choking off as her other dagger slammed into their neck. Another bolt impacted behind her, and she dove to the side to avoid a whistling blade, coming up and throwing herself into the side of her attacker. As they rolled on the ground, her knee found the edge of the breastplate and she wasted no time thrusting a knife through the leather padding beneath the plate. She heard Cassandra shouting, and shoved herself off the now dead Templar to follow the shouts. A puddle sloshed beneath her feet, and before she could lift her leg there was a rush of air and her foot was caught by ice, causing her to awkwardly pitch forward onto one knee, as she couldn't move her ankle from where it was frozen. Ailynn growled in frustration, a growl that turned to a whimper as a blast of frost hit her in the chest. Dropping a dagger, she reached for the small knives at her belt, waiting for another blast of magic. It took but a moment, the crackle of ice and the soft thud of a stave into the ground telling her everything she need to know. She whipped her hand back, snapped it forward toward the thud as she felt another layer of frost formed around her. There was a cry from before her, followed by a thud of a crossbow bolt and a strange gurgle as something warm and wet splattered across her face. Ailynn reversed her grip on her remaining dagger as something fell to the ground before her, slamming it repeatedly into the ice that held her foot until it shattered. 

Catching her breath for a moment, Ailynn stood in the middle of the lessening chaos, listening to the last of the fighting die into the moan and stirrings of the injured. "Varric?" No response. "Solas?" Panic gripped her chest. "Cassandra?" She tried to remember where their voices had last come from. Had Solas been behind her? Or had he been over to her right? She couldn't remember. Her breath came faster as she battled with herself over whether to search for them or stay put. Maybe they were simply out of earshot? She listened closely to the voices sparking around her, the sounds of people coming out of hiding as the fighting ended. Nowhere did she hear her companions. She stepped hesitantly forward, didn't touch anything, and so took another. Still nothing. She began to walk faster, trying to reach the closest group of voices and find someone who could possibly spot the three. As the area around her rumbled to life, sounds multiplying and scents growing stronger from every direction, she was quickly becoming overwhelmed as she attempted to search for her friends. Her pace quickened until she was no longer considering each step, and she found herself hurtling into the ground before she had gone three paces, landing in a puddle. Because it had to be a puddle. Ailynn pushing herself into a sitting position. She hated not knowing, hated not being able to function like everyone else sometimes. She braced her head in her hands, elbows on her knees as she tried to calm herself, tried to think past her fear and focus on being . . . not whatever she was right now. Not panicked. Not alone. Not overwhelmed by too much going on around her.

"Viper? You ok?" A sloshing in the puddle, a hand on one of her wrists. "Geez, kid, you injured? You're covered in blood!" His worried tone, mixed with the realization that one of her companions was with her again nearly made her cry in relief before she reestablished her rigid control over herself. Strong, large hands pulled her own hands away from her face.

"I'm fine. I don't think any of it's mine." She used his grip on her hands as leverage to pull herself forward, breaking his grip at the sudden movement and throwing her arms around the startled dwarf. He went rigid for a moment, then relaxed, his arms encircling her closely.

"Not that I mind hugs, per se, but what brought this on?" 

Ailynn laughed, slightly hysterical. "Sorry, Varric. Just needed . . . reassurance."

"Reassurance?"

"That you were here."

The dwarf gave her a heartfelt squeeze before separating. "Solas and Cassandra are up talking to Corporal Vale. Let's get you cleaned up and we'll see if we can't find this Mother Giselle, shall we?" He took her hand, leading her gently from the middle of the carnage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote this while extremely tired, so if there's mistakes or some things that just don't make sense please tell me so I can go through and edit. And just so you know, I'm planning for every part of this series to be three chapters with interludes between. So part two and probably part three will be coming up over the next few weeks! Wooo!


	4. Is the Bird a Viper or a Cat?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ailynn decides between the mages and Templars, and is given yet another nickname. Maybe this one will stick?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been so long between the last chapter and this one! I rewrote this literally like seven times. But here is the next chapter! Yay! Hopefully the rest of this arc will follow much more rapidly, as it's one of my favorite storylines and I've been dying for Ailynn to get to Redcliffe.

_Talenansal sends his regards._

The parting words of Grand Enchanter Fiona reverberated through Ailynn’s mind as she sat in the meeting with the other heads of the Inquisition. They argued pointlessly around the choice between Templars and mages. To her mind, there was no choice. Not just because of Fiona’s words. The system that had prevailed for centuries had finally shattered beyond repair, and trying to put the pieces back together was an act of futility. To go to the Templars was tantamount to supporting the Circles, something Ailynn was loathe to contemplate. She’d seen firsthand what the Templar order had become in Kirkwall. Her experiences while travelling to the Conclave and meeting the Templars at the Temple, as well as the Lord Seeker’s actions in Val Royeaux had only cemented her certainty that the Templars, though founded for honorable reasons, had strayed far from their intended purpose.

At least the mages were trying for positive change, even if their methods were just as deplorable.

Ailynn winced at a particularly shrill argument burst from Josephine. This was getting beyond tiresome. “Enough!” Slamming her hand down onto the table, she rose and glared at the now silent room. “We’ve been in here for hours. We’ve argued over every possibility and outcome for both sides and have yet to come a decision. This is ridiculous. If you all wish to continue this discussion, be my guest, but do so without me and understand that I am leaving in the morning for Redcliffe, with or without your approval or aid.” Without waiting for their reactions, she stormed out of the room.

Exiting the Chantry, she went straight to her cabin to begin preparations for her departure in the morning. Gently shutting the door behind her, she bolted it and then leaned heavily against the wood as she considered everyone’s reactions to her outburst. Josephine would be scandalized, but probably pleased at her decision. Leliana would be pleased as well, though certainly less scandalized. Cassandra would simply be glad a decision had been made, but Cullen . . . she sighed. Cullen would be furious. He might even hate her bit for this. For some reason, the thought of his ire turned on her made her throat tighten in anguish, before she reminded herself that the choice was a reasonable one even in spite of her more . . . personal reasons for going to Redcliffe.

Wearily, she grabbed her empty pack from where it lay beside the door and began her packing routine. First, to the wardrobe. Two sets of leather armor, tucked tightly into the bottom of the pack. Then a few sets of plain tunics and underclothes, leggings and the extra blanket from the bottom of the wardrobe. She would wear her boots in the morning, not wanting to feel the ice cold of the stirrups on her toes for the start of the journey, so the boots went next to her bed. From her desk she retrieved her oil and cleaning cloth for her daggers, as well as a whetstone and her spare throwing knives. Her lockpicks were in the small concealed pocket of her jacket, but since Vivienne had redone her whole wardrobe and was insisting she wear her new one, she transferred them to the new jacket, hanging her old one in the wardrobe (one the far left) and placed the new one over the chair at her desk.

A knock interrupted her preparations. She steeled herself for what was bound to be a conflict and crossed the room, taking a deep breath before carefully pulling open the door.

The blast of cool air blew wisps of hair into her face, tickling her cheeks. Silence greeted her for a long moment before a breath was released before her.

“Herald. Can I-That is, I would like to discuss your departure tomorrow.” Cullens voice was soft, but tightly controlled. She stepped aside, gesturing to the room.

“Of course. Please, feel free to sit down. I’m just finishing up my packing.” She felt him brush past her, then heard the scrape of the chair at the desk. Trying to contain her own anxiousness, she busied herself with gathering the last little things she would need for Redcliffe.

“Just tell me why.” She paused, one hand on her hearth. His tone was even, voice still soft, resignation on his lips. She prayed that resignation was the worst; if he considered this a betrayal, she would tear herself apart with guilt even knowing this was the right decision.

Ailynn considered her words carefully before responding. “Things can’t go back to how they were before. No matter who we went to, who we sided with, things will have to change. The Templars aren’t willing to do that. Their whole reasoning behind this war is the continuation of what was, and what was didn’t work. It’s how we got here in the first place. Mages are . . . dangerous, for all the obvious reasons, but the Templars? They’re unstable.” She heard a sharp intake of breath, and interrupted before he could speak. “I know that there are good men and women in the Templars, Cullen, I’m not saying the whole order is corrupt. But their leadership?” She shook her head. “Their officers are going to lead them straight to the Maker, and not in a good way.” A shudder passed through her at the recollection of her brief encounter with Lord Seeker Lucius.

“And you think the leadership within the mages is any better? We have no information on their leaders. What if it’s ten times worse?” The chair scraped, and his footsteps crossed the room to her. She could practically feel him behind her, but he made no move to touch her.

“Even if it is, the mages haven’t been raised and trained to follow orders. New leadership wouldn’t cause chaos among them like it would the Templars.” Her head hurt. This was too close to the arguments she had just escaped from, and he was the last person she wanted to be arguing with. Even if nothing could happen between them . . . “Look, Cullen, I don’t want to argue this. I’m so sorry that this has hurt you so much, and I know that the Templars are capable and good people. But so are the mages. And they deserve freedom. Everyone deserves freedom.” _My brother deserves freedom,_ she thought angrily to herself. 

There was a moment of silence. “Ailynn . . .” A hesitant hand brushed her shoulder, but she spun away from the searching fingers, twirling around the Commander until she was across the room. If he touched her, she would break. She would cry and tell him everything about why she _had_ to go to Redcliffe. “Maker’s breath, you’re like a cat the way you move,” came a stunned whisper.

She frowned. “Why is it that you all are so intent on comparing me to animals? You say I’m like a cat, Vivienne always compares me to a bird, and Varric insists on calling me Viper. I definitely prefer nicknames to this ‘Herald’ nonsense, but this is ridiculous.” Honestly, why couldn’t they just do away with all the little pet names and use her actual name? 

His chuckle drifted across the room, a soft bubbling into her ears and making her lips twitch in spite of her current turmoil. “Ridiculous? Hardly. All of the creatures are accurate. You are poised as a bird, fast as a viper and clever like a cat.” A small huff of amusement came from his nose. “You are practically a griffon.”

“A griffon?”

“Body of a cat, wings of an eagle, talons like fangs and just as fast with them as any snake. Griffon suits you well, I should say.” A small tapping came from the hearth. The noise confused her for a moment before she realized it was Cullen, tapping the hearth with a finger. A smile tugged the corners of her lips, remembering his promise on the night she’d returned from Val Royeaux. _”Could you tap your hand or something when you smile at me?”_ Surely he couldn’t be smiling at her now? Not when she’d gone directly against him for the first time on such an important decision.

She let silence descend upon the room, unsure of what to say. 

Eventually Cullen sighed. “I can’t say I agree with you, nor that I will be happy with your decision. But I do understand your reasoning. And I respect that you have made an informed decision and that you have our best interests at heart.” Relief flooded through her, and the smile that had teased finally broke upon her face. She stepped back across the room, finding his furry mantle and pulling him roughly into a firm embrace. 

“Thank you,” she whispered into his ear. She felt his body relax within his armor, and was engulfed in his return embrace with his chin resting softly on her shoulder as her face was buried in his fur. 

 

Vivienne sniffed in disdain as the group paused by the docks of Redcliffe. “A Tevinter Magister? Really, what could have possessed the Grand Enchanter? Does she really think this will save her pitiful rebellion?” Ailynn was inclined to agree. 

Nothing that had happened since they had arrived in Redcliffe made sense. The rift outside the gates had been . . . strange, to say the least. Her hand still ached and her arm was half numb up to her elbow. She absently massaged the limb while Vivienne continued her rant about the stupidity of desperate people with desperate causes. Fiona had denied ever meeting them in Val Royeaux, though Ailynn was sure she was lying from the way her voice had trembled slightly. And Magister Alexius . . . a snake if Ailynn had ever encountered one before. His voice was too honeyed, his words too accommodating. He wanted something. Badly. Something to do with his son, most likely . . .

“Oh! I almost forgot,” she pulled the scrap of paper from her pocket. “Felix slipped this into my hand when he fell on me. Anyone care to tell me what it says?” She held it up for the taking.

Bull grunted, taking the scrap from her fingers, his rough fingers delicate against her own skin. “Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.” He huffed. “That’s damn suspicious, Boss. I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I. How do we know we can trust Felix? He is Alexius’s son, after all.” Cassandra moved to Bull, no doubt taking a look at the note herself. Ailynn sighed.

“I’ll add my vote to that. I’m still going, however. At least if it’s a trap it’s one we can be prepared for. Bull?” She held out her hand, letting him pull her from the ground where she had been sitting. She wrapped her arm around his, marvelling once more at just how massive the Qunari seemed to be. She was still too scared to ask if he really had horns. She’d heard that most Qunari did, but it didn’t seem the kind of thing that you should ask of someone who could literally split you in half with their bare hands. “Let’s go see what’s waiting for us in the Chantry, shall we?”


	5. Ferocity and Timeless Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ailynn has a series of unfortunate altercations the day before she departs to Redcliffe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that these are coming so far apart!!! Life went a little nuts for a while, but all indications are that things are calming down finally. And you will be pleased to hear that I got inspired and wrote three chapters back to back, so the next two will be coming over the next day or so, and it is time for another interlude! :D Be on the lookout for Iron Bull (Interlude II)

Ailynn panted, sweat dripping down her forehead as she strained to listen for her opponent’s movements. Her attacker was clever, using thrown stones and shouts to mask their movements until they were almost too close to avoid. A shifting in the rocks in front of her was her only warning before the attacker plowed into her stomach, knocking them both to the ground, Ailynn’s opponent on top of her. She let out a feral snarl, enraged at her inability to prevent the attack, but then her lips curled into a wicked smile. _A mistake at last,_ she thought gleefully. Her left dagger had been lost to her when they’d fallen, but her right hand still clenched her blade tightly and now her attacker was physically entangled with her on the ground. Before her attacker had a chance to press their advantage, Ailynn was prying at the armor around their neck with her left hand, finding the gap and bringing her right hand in to strike-

“Hold!” the Commander’s voice rang through the air and instantly Ailynn and her opponent froze. Ailynn was panting heavily from the long spar, but to her slight gratification, heavy breaths also dusted her cheek from the person pinning her down.

“Am I dead yet, Commander?” She managed to gasp out as his heavily booted steps approached. The tapping at her side, just at the point that would reach her heart through her lung was her answer. “Fenhedis. I thought I got you before you got your arm around.” The only response was a grunt. 

“All right, Grim, you can release the Herald.” The weight left her, Grim helping her to her feet before moving away from them. “You did better that time, Lavellan. If you’d managed to find the weakness in his armor just a moment sooner, you would have won the day.” She huffed before stomping across the yard to where she’d left her pack. The mud needed to be cleaned from her daggers before she put them away, and she needed to work out her frustration in a way that didn’t involve her getting her ass handed to her. Again.

“Herald, are you alright?” Cullen knelt down next to her, gently stopping her hands as they scrubbed furiously against her blade. His leather gloves were soft and insistent against her hands. A solid and stable contrast to her raging inner storm.

 

“I’m perfectly fine, Commander. Who wouldn’t be perfectly fine after having it made perfectly clear that they are horrible in combat?” She didn’t even bother to hide her anger. She wanted to be angry, wanted him to know that she was angry; after all, what was the point of rage if it was not expressed?

“You’re not horrible in combat,” Cullen said soothingly. Ailynn cut him off before he could go on.

“Cullen, don’t give me that shit. I’m faster and more flexible than anyone else in this camp, than most people I’ll ever meet. But if I can’t tell where an opponent is, or see where they aim their weapons, none of that means anything. It’s been fine up until now, we’ve made it work, but it’s becoming painfully obvious that I am a detriment in the field when it comes to actual fighting.” She grimaced, remembering Cassandra’s cry when she’d had to dive in the way of a Templar’s blade that had been poised to slice clean through Ailynn’s neck. If Solas hadn’t been there, she might have lost her hand, instead of just some blood . . .

“You know, Boss, I’d say you’re just going about this the wrong way.” Bull’s strangely gentle voice spoke. She snapped her head toward the massive Qunari. 

“What?”

“Those daggers. They were fine when all you needed them for was street fighting, but in the real world? Takes an expert rogue to wield them properly. And forgive me for saying this, but you’re no expert rogue.” Ailynn winced, but didn’t contest his words. 

“Do you have a solution, Bull, or are you just here to give us your analysis of the Herald’s capabilities?” Her eyes lifted in surprise at the bite in the Commander’s tone. 

Bull’s low chuckle made it clear he wasn’t offended. “Have you ever considered a more . . . hands-on approach to fighting, Commander?”

“Like wrestling?” Ailynn interrupted. 

“No, he means martial arts.” Cullen sounded intrigued. 

“Martial arts?”

“Close combat without weapons. Kind of like wrestling, but a whole lot more motion. Your speed and flexibility would be put to perfect use.” He sounded smug, but Ailynn was too curious to care. 

“How is she supposed to avoid a blade to get close enough to engage?” Cullen asked.

“Get her low. Hardly matters where they’re coming from if she’s crouched down real low; they’ll have to swing down. She can hear ‘em coming by then, go for the feet. We’ll have to work the timing a bit, and it won’t necessarily work against dwarves, but it’s a place to start.”

“Yes . . . It could definitely work. I’ll talk to Leliana about getting a fighter here to start her training.”

“Don’t bother with anything less than a master; Krem can take care of the basics. He picked it up from some Crow while we were doing some work in the Free Marches few years back. Won’t make her a master, but he can give her a good foundation.”

Ailynn didn’t exactly appreciate them making plans for her without her input while she sat right between them, but her building excitement was more than enough to distract her from her irritation. “When can Krem start?” she asked eagerly.

Bull and Cullen both laughed. “Not today, little Gryphon. You’ve had more than enough training for one day. Go get yourself cleaned up before Madame de Fer comes looking for you. She said something about a new shipment from Val Royeaux?” 

“Really?” She thrust her now clean daggers home and picked up her pack eagerly. “She said she was going to send to her tailor for some more dresses.” She stood and started making her way toward her cabin, treading carefully along the path. “Feel free to stop by, Commander, if you want to preview the selections like last time.” Hopefully, he wouldn’t take her jest for a true invitation; his involvement in her last clothing session, however brief, had left her just as rattled as Vivienne had assured he had been.

Behind her, a quiet sigh of “Maker’s breath” was his only response. Her laughter at his embarrassment was soft, but Bull’s voice positively echoed as he demanded details of the last time Vivienne had had her try on clothes. Her mood thus lightened, she sought her cabin.

 

 

Not an hour later Ailynn fled the cabin, moving as quickly as she dared across the uneven ground as she put as much space between herself and the two mages. Dorian had joined her and Vivienne when he’d found out about the shipment from Val Royeaux, but it had become abundantly clear to Ailynn that he and Vivienne would never again be allowed in the same room if she could help it. She wasn’t even sure they had noticed her departure, their attentions being too focused on hurling passive-aggressive insults at one another. It was painfully obvious to her as well throughout the exchange that she was not “one of them.” As much as Vivienne enjoyed playing dress-up with her, as much as the woman was rapidly becoming the closest thing she’d ever had to a mother, she remained first and foremost a courtier. And no matter how attached the two became Ailynn would always be a knife-ear, and a defective one at that.

She kicked the ground as she walked, listening in satisfaction when rocks tumbled out of her way rather than obstructing her steps in such a way that she stumbled. It was petty, but each impact of the balls of her feet against the ground in such a way ensured she wouldn’t stumble needlessly, and she liked to imagine the stones were fleeing in terror from her approach. It made her feel better. She probably looked ridiculous, but seeing as she had nothing to judge herself against, she rather didn’t care at the moment. 

“Any particular reason the ground is so offensive today, Viper?” Varric’s trudging steps joined her as she continued to stomp across the ground.

“We’re resolving our differences. They tend to pile up after a while, and it’s best if I respond every now and then or else it starts getting ideas,” she responded glibly. 

Varric roared with laughter. “Any outstanding differences I should be aware of?”

“It’s proclivity for changing from step to step. Things would be so much easier if the ground was nice and flat all the time.” She gave a particularly harsh kick.

“You are preaching to the choir, kid,” he sighed. “Us city folk shouldn’t be subjected to this infernally uneven ground. I tell ya, whose idea was it to create hills . . . “ his voice trailed off. Ailynn had stopped suddenly, her whole body tense and every muscle focused directly on the dwarf. “Viper?”

“What do you mean, ‘us city folk?’” Her voice snapped.

“What? Oh, well . . . I just meant . . . I mean, I thought that since-”

“Since _what,_ Varric?” He couldn’t possibly know, could he?

His next words came reluctantly. “Well, I got a letter the other day from an old friend of mine, a barkeeper in Kirkwall. Fellow by the name of Corff.” Ailynn paled. “Turns out, he’d heard a rumor or two about our Herald, ‘bout her being Dalish, blind, and he asked if I could tell him anything more. Apparently he’d had a friend in Kirkwall, young blind elf, that’d disappeared before the Conclave. Said something about ‘wanting to look for someone’ and had taken off.” He lapsed into silence for a moment, but Ailynn didn’t respond. “Look, I didn’t mean to pry into your life, but as soon as I got the letter I remembered you too. Little slip of an elf, worked for the tailor in Hightown for years? You spent a lot of nights in the Hanged Man I know you were raised Dalish, but the city rubs off on you after a while.”

“The city rubs off on you? No, Varric, the city does not ‘rub off on you.’ The city slaps you in the face, throws you to the ground, and stomps on you. Your experiences in Kirkwall will _never_ be comparable to mine. I am not ‘city folk.’ The years I spent in Kirkwall did not make me one of ‘us.’ I’m Dalish. Did Corff ever tell you how we met?” She took a step toward Varric, anger from the whole day overflowing into her words. “We met when I wandered into his bar to get out of a cold night for a few minutes because I didn’t have a _jacket,_ didn’t have food, didn’t have a place to sleep. He took pity on me and gave me a bowl of soup after I managed to knock a drunkard out cold. I was begging on the streets, Varric. I wasn’t some Dalish merchant, I wasn’t a blood mage capable of protecting myself and I didn’t luck into powerful friends who could protect me.

I was alone in Kirkwall. Blind, alone, and knife-eared in one of the harshest cities in the world. Do you know how many times I had to hide from the Carta? How many times I was beaten for sleeping in the wrong place, how many times a knife was held to my throat for walking into the wrong neighborhood? Even after Olson gave me that job, I still spent my nights begging because who in their right mind pays a knife-ear a living wage? I appreciate you, Varric, I really do, but don’t you _dare_ assume that we are anything alike merely because we spent a few years in the same city.” Her voice had risen to a shout, and heat flooded her cheeks as she realized they were probably not alone where they stood. To make matters worse, her emotions were now running especially high and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to rip something apart or hide away and cry.

Varric’s rough hand clasped her own but she yanked her hand away. He didn’t repeat the action, thankfully. “That’s . . . well, shit. What do you want me to say to that?”

Ailynn clenched her hands at her side. “I don’t want you to say anything, Varric. Just write Corff and tell him I’m fine.” She turned and began to walk away. “And send Aveline a letter while you’re at it, she’s probably worried too,” she called over her shoulder. Despite her anger, part of her was relieved; Varric apparently didn’t know the extent of her involvement in Kirkwall. Thank the Creators for small blessings. She made her way toward the old mine shafts in hopes that she would be able to avoid any more curious bystanders. The footsteps that trailed after her made her want to shriek in rage.

“Herald?” Cullen called softly as he approached. But he wasn’t . . . normal. There was no clank of metal in his steps, the strong reek of metal that usually coated him was dulled, his aroma holding more that reminded her of leather and wheat than swords and armor. It was . . . pleasant.

“I swear by the Creators above, if you don’t call me something else I will plant my foot so far up your ass you’ll taste it.” He sat next to her without another word. “I assume you heard my exchange with Varric.” It was not a question.

“I- yes. I hadn’t realized you spent so much time in Kirkwall,” he said carefully. 

Ailynn snorted. “I lived there for . . . six years? The experience as a whole was not entirely pleasant, by any definition of the word.”

“Then you were there when the Chantry exploded.” 

“No.” 

“You left before?” 

“No, I was definitely in Kirkwall for that. I mean no, I won’t talk about it. There are some things I’m just not ready to talk about.” She rubbed her left shoulder absently. _Things I’ll never be able to talk about, most likely._

“I . . . understand. Some experiences are too personal, too tragic to share.” His voice seemed far away despite the fact that he sat right beside her. She sighed, reaching over until her hand brushed his arm, then followed the limb until she could clasp his fingers in her own and pull his hand to her cheek.

“We’re a bunch of right messed up folk, aren’t we?” she said softly. 

“Honestly? I’d be more afraid if we weren’t. I don’t think anyone gets through life unscathed; anyone who says otherwise is lying.” His fingers tightened in hers. “If you don’t mind me asking, I heard Varric mention you being at the Conclave to look for someone? Who were you trying to find?”

She sat still and silent for a long moment, trying to decide how much she trusted the man next to her. _More than anyone else here,_ she realized. _More than anyone else in a long, long time._ The thought scared her a little. _But not that much. Not yet._

“Someone I was once very close to.”


	6. Is The Future If We Don't See It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ailynn and Dorian end up a year in the future after confronting Alexius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in as many days! And Iron Bull's interlude will be showing up in the next several hours as well. Staying home sick is a fabulous thing sometimes ^.^

Going into a private meeting with a Magister they knew was trying to kill her was unpleasant. Hearing said Magister rant about his bloodthirsty culd was unpleasant. Being told she was going to be killed or turned over to some mysterious Elder One was unpleasant.

Suddenly being attacked and thrown through a magic portal into a pit of water was downright upsetting.

Ailynn thrashed about after hitting the floor hard enough to gasp, an action she immediately regretted as it filled her lungs with stagnant water. A strong hand managed to grasp her flailing arm and pulled her up to her feet as she sputtered and coughed, but her relief at not drowning was short lived as shouts filled the air and the unmistakable sound of drawn swords was followed by armored boots running toward them.

“Behind me! And stay there!” snapped Dorian, the hand on her arm thrusting her back. Ailynn stumbled again, catching herself against a wall as the room exploded in heat from the fire that had roared to life in the center of the room. Ailynn listened in horror as agonized screams filled the air, the noise reverberating off the stone walls and making her ears ring painfully. As quickly as the screams had started, they ended, and as the last scream died the heat disappeared from the room.

“Well. Sorry you had to see that. Burning people alive is never as pleasant as one would think.” Dorian sloshed to where she stood leaning on the wall and trying to catch her breath. His hand clasped her shoulder gently as she gave a few more weak coughs.

“I’m perfectly happy not having seen that, from the sounds of it. Any ideas where we are?” she managed to ask after her lungs finally recovered from their dunking.

“Not Redcliffe Castle’s throne room, that’s for certain,” he replied. “Though I doubt Alexius’ amulet could have sent us very far, so I’m going to assume we are still somewhere in the castle.” He snapped his fingers. “Of course! It’s not just where, it’s _when._ Alexius must have sent us through _time._ If we can get that amulet-”

“What amulet?” Ailynn fought to keep her rising panic out of her voice. This couldn’t be real. Dorian was joking, right? Sent to another time? Impossible!

“Ah, right. Alexius opened a portal using an amulet as a focus for magical energy, to direct the flow of mana more precisely. I managed to interrupt the spell, negate as much as I could, but I have no idea what he intended. Impossible to say when we are. We need to find someone more . . . open to discussion. Let’s be off!” His hand left her shoulder and he sloshed away from her. 

“Dorian!” Panic broke through her control. He stopped.

“Are you alright? I know this is a lot to take in . . . “ the concern in his voice was almost enough to send her over the edge.

Ailynn tied to soothe her pounding heart. “I’m just- I apologize, I know we’re in a terrible situation, and you’re going to have to be doing most of the fighting because apparently this placing is REALLY hostile, and I wish I could do more to help and I’m sorry I’m going to be so in the way-” the words came fast, tumbling over each other as if competing to escape her mouth fastest. 

Dorian cut her off. “Dear, slow down. Take a breath.” He neared her again, this time taking both her shoulders in his strong grip. The feeling steadied her, as if the weight was an anchor she desperately needed to keep from flying apart. She could feel herself trembling as she took a deep breath. “What do you need?” he asked gently.

She reached out to grasp his own shoulders, glad he didn’t wear the heavy metal armor of a warrior so she could feel him breathing, feel his heartbeat beneath his robes. “I’m going to need you to guide me,” she said in a small voice. _This_ is what she hated; being a burden on others in dangerous situations. What if they needed to move quickly, and she stumbled? What if trying to protect her opened him to attack? He obviously had ideas on how to get them back, and here she was asking him to take care of her. She should be able to function like everyone else, damn it!

To her shock, Dorian pulled her into a tight embrace, a strong arm around her back and another crushing her head to his chest. For a moment she was too stunned to respond, but he was warm and solid and it was so intensely comforting in the midst of what was going on that she wrapped her arms around him as well, squeezing tightly in thanks until he pulled away.

“Alright, what’s the best way to do this then?” His hand sought out hers.

“If you’ll walk next to me? Right side is probably best, that way I’m not in the way of your dominant hand in case you need to let go quickly. You are right handed, correct?”

“Yes.” 

“Good. Then you’ll take my right hand in your right hand.” His hands found their assigned positions, and she was glad to feel his warmth against her shoulder.

“It’s almost like we’re dancing,” Dorian said, humor dancing in his voice. Ailynn smiled shakily at the comparison.

“A bit, yes. You’re the lead, though. You move, and I’ll follow the directions I feel from your hands and body. You’ll have to tell me if there’s anything I have to step over, like stairs or bodies, and if I trip it would be nice if you tried to keep me from hitting the ground? I’m afraid it’ll probably happen fairly often,” she flinched at the admission.

“Now don’t you fret, my dear, if I can’t keep a slip of a thing like you on your feet I’m not worthy of the balls of Minrathous,” he chuckled.

Together they began to search their surroundings. The few people they met did not seem to appreciate their being there, however, and Ailynn was soon clutching a dagger in her free hand as they journeyed through the dungeons. Dorian was surprisingly receptive to her needs as they worked together, calling out targets and attacks for her to dodge as he threw fire across rooms. Her relief at their continuing to be unscathed was short lived, however, when after their third skirmish a familiar voice rumbled through the room.

“Boss? No. You died. I watched you die.” The voice was resigned, with more of an air of thinking out loud than actually speaking to her, and there was a strange tone underneath his words that she couldn’t identify.

“Bull?” Ailynn stumbled toward his voice, only to have Dorian stop her.

“Allow me,” he said, pushing past her. “I grabbed the keys off one of those lackeys in the last room.” Metal tinkled against metal as Dorian unlocked the bars that led to Bull. As his heavy footfalls exited his prison, Ailynn made to step forward and embrace the Qunari only to be held back by Dorian.

“You don’t want to touch me, Boss. You’re just going to have to take it on faith that I’m me, and I’ll take it on faith that you’re you. Whatever the hell is going on, it can’t be worse than sitting in a cell waiting to be harvested.”

Ailynn went cold. Harvested? “Bull . . .” she whispered, hand outstretched.

“It’s red lyrium,” hissed Dorian. “It’s . . . _growing out of him._ ” She snapped her hand back in horror.

“Don’t worry, Boss. I’m good. What’s the plan?”

Dorian thankfully took over the explanation. They’d already found Fiona and established the date and tentatively decided to search out Alexius. Bull quickly agreed to the plan, but requested a quick detour.

“Next room over. We’ll want as much help for this as we can get.”

Dorian was once again guiding Ailynn, carefully keeping himself between her and Bull in an effort to keep her from hearing the quiet strains of humming that emanated from him. 

It didn’t help.

“What’s this? Another phantom sent to try to persuade me to bend to the will of the Elder One? It will never happen, I’m afraid.” 

Ailynn took a step back. This was . . . this was worse than everything. “Vivienne?” The same strange echo was in her words that resounded when Bull spoke. _Please no,_ she thought. _Not Vivienne._

“Don’t look so pitiful. Playing a dead girl is no way to try to gain my trust.” Venom dripped from her words, and Ailynn had never been so glad that Dorian held her so strongly.

“It’s no trick, Enchanter. Alexius’ spell didn’t kill us, it sent us into the future. If we can find his amulet I might be able to reverse the spell and return us to the moment we left. We can make it so none of this ever happens!” Dorian was insistent but Ailynn struggled to see how this would convince Vivienne. 

“Ma’am. Any particular reason not to go along with this shit?” Bull asked quietly. “What’s the worst that could happen?” Vivienne sighed in response.

“I suppose the worst that could happen is that we die. A blessed relief, surely.” There was a clank as her cell was opened, and she swept past Ailynn without another word. Dorian gave her hand a squeeze in support as they continued through the keep.

 

Leliana was almost a complete reversal from Vivienne when they found her, joining them without question. Ailynn wasn’t sure if she preferred her friends when they trusted her or when they distrusted her more in this situation. There was an intensity behind Leliana since they’d found her that had taken Ailynn aback. She’d managed to catch the woman when they’d released her chains and knew she was much more frail than she had let on to the others. She seemed . . . off. Unhinged. It made the normally frightening spymaster entirely too terrifying.

They were searching for the shards to open the throne room door when Ailynn’s worst fear was realized. Attempting to sneak upon a Venatori mage allowed them to momentarily eavesdrop on the discussion happening among the other men in the room.

“You sure Alexius said we could dispose of this one?” said a man.

“Too volatile; apparently last time they tried to interrogate him, he managed to break away and killed three of the interrogators before they managed to bring him down.” There was a thud, followed by a muffled grunt.

Bull was just in front of Ailynn. “Shit,” he breathed. 

“I thought he was already dead!” hissed Vivienne.

“He will be if we don’t move quickly.” Leliana moved swiftly, leaping forward. Chaos ensued for a short time while the five of them took down the Venatori. Ailynn centered herself in the room, taking her daggers to everything that came within reach.

“Ailynn, take him and get against a wall!” shouted Dorian as a person was shoved into her. “See if you can get those chains off him!” She wasted no time dragging the two of them away from the fighting. When her free hand found the wall she pulled the man down in front of her and fumbled with her belt pouch until she found her lockpicks and turned her attention to the chains on his wrist. Before she had a chance to insert her picks, his hands deftly pulled away and then wrapped around her wrists in an iron grip and muffled words were spoken toward her. _He’s gagged,_ she realized. He allowed her to pull one hand free to reach slowly for his face, her fingers tracing carefully along the fabric to pull it from his mouth until she brushed the tips of her fingers over the scar across his lip. 

Two people stopped breathing.

“No. No, no please no,” she whispered as she ripped the gag from his mouth, ignoring the continuing sounds of fighting around them.

“Ailynn.” His grip released on her wrist, chains clinking as he brought his hands up to cup her cheeks. “This can’t be real. You _died._ ” Cullen’s voice was soft, almost reverent as they knelt together holding each other’s faces. 

Tears finally flowed down her cheeks, this culmination to the days horror too much for her to care who saw her break down anymore. His thumbs softly brushed the tears as they tracked down her face in such tenderness she thought she would shatter from the care he showed in the midst of her nightmare. She was reminded of their night in the snow, so long ago it seemed another lifetime. “Gryphons are difficult to kill, it seems,” she whispered. 

“We need to leave. The last shard is ours, it’s time to face Alexius.” Leliana said curtly. “Now is not the time for private tender moments. Get his chains off and let us be done with this day.”

They relinquished their respective holds, her fingers fumbling to release the chains quickly as the others filed past. When the lock finally gave way he helped her to her feet, grip strong as ever as he took Dorian’s place as her guide. Pressed so close, she was intimately aware of not only the fact that he was apparently not wearing a shirt, but also covered in half-healed wounds. She tried not to think of what he had experienced in her absence. A year was a long time to suffer.

 

 

“You have as long as I have arrows.”

Ailynn nodded. Vivienne and Bull had already departed to guard the newly sealed doors. Leliana was positioned down the steps from where she and Dorian stood while Dorian tried to reverse the enchantment that had sent them here. Cullen was beside her, stern in his anger at what had been forced upon them. Outside the hall, clashes of steel and the screams of the dead echoed like a symphony of hell.

Her hand burned from the rifts she’d been forced to close. Outside the hall, Vivienne’s scream was cut off too abruptly and Bull’s roar of rage was followed by an increasing cacophony of metal on metal. The door pounded and Ailynn flinched. _This isn’t the truth,_ she repeated to herself. _This will not be true unless you fail._ Right. Because she was always so good at fulfilling her duties.

The door burst open and Dorian pulled her closer as Cullen and Leliana advanced against the flood of bodies into the room. She could hear them saying the Chant of Light together, a last prayer before their inevitable deaths and Ailynn couldn’t breathe, couldn’t bear to stand by while her friends died for her. But to go to help them would only ensure their deaths meant nothing, so she adamantly stayed put while Dorian mumbled furiously to himself.

“Faster would be better, Dorian!” called Cullen. Their battle was being pushed closer moment by moment. Ailynn bounced impatiently on her feet, ready to move at a moment’s notice. “Ailynn, on your left! Low!” he suddenly roared.

Ailynn spun to her left, ducking into a crouch and shoving forward as a blade sliced through the air above her. She caught the attacker by surprise and they fell back, sword clattering to the ground away from them as she scrambled on top of the man and plunged her dagger into his unprotected throat.

“Ailynn! The portal is open! We need to leave NOW!” Dorian shouted. 

“Go! I’m coming!” she pushed away from the dead soldier and threw herself towards the magical crackle that had sprouted near the throne. Before she could reach her escape, something slammed into her side and she was thrown sideways, colliding with the corner of the throne with a sickening crunch.

“NO!” Cullen roared. She was dimly aware of her attacker being thrown back as she fought to regain her feet, pain flooding her torso as she moved. His hand grasped her and pulled her once more toward the portal. Was it fading? “Hold on, Gryphon, I’m sending you home.”

“Cullen-” 

“Don’t you dare die on me! Live, Ailynn!” He shoved her in front of him just as he spasmed, the shriek of a terror demon filling the air.

“Cullen!” 

“Live.” 

His last act was to shove her through the portal.


	7. Friend or Foe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ailynn survived the trip into Redcliffe's future. Can she survive her return? And will she find what she was looking for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! Bull's Interlude was posted earlier, and a new chapter for WLWSD is up! Everyone say hello to Talenansal. He's kinda important. Just a smidge. ;)

Ailynn stumbled out of the portal, keeping her feet by pure stubbornness in spite of the pain in her torso and the horror of what she had just experienced burning in her mind. “Dorian!” she cried, hands groping through the air around her in a desperate search for the Tevinter mage.

It was her utter relief when his familiar warm hands grasped her own. “It worked! Andraste’s bloody knickers, we’re back!” Dorian exulted.

“Back? You hardly left, darling,” Vivienne’s voice drifted from the left of where Ailynn and Dorian stood. Her voice was normal, no strange echo, and Ailynn could have collapsed from sheer relief.

“No!” The voice that reverberated through the hall brought Ailynn’s head whipping around with an almost audible _snap._ Alexius continued his babbling as Ailynn tugged at Dorian to lead her to the distraught mage.

“It’s over, Alexius. You failed.” She tried to sound angry, strong, but instead she knew her words were weary. She pitied the man, could even understand his motives to an extent, but right now she just wanted him gone. She wanted to be gone. Gone from this place, these memories of a future that she couldn’t bear to remember. A rustling of cloth and the echoes of approaching steps stalled any response, Dorian squeezing her hand in gentle reassurance that the newcomer was friendly. “Felix . . . My son, you’ll die.” The magister’s voice was as broken as it had been at the end of that terrible future. Ailynn shuddered at the emptiness.

“Everyone dies, father.” Silence reigned after Felix’s simple words, interrupted only by the continued sobbing from Alexius.

“Leliana?” Ailynn turned so that her voice would carry through the room, unsure where the spymaster was positioned at the moment. She nearly jumped out of her skin when her lyrical voice grew from mere feet away.

“I will take him, of course. We will return him to Haven for interrogation, and when the time comes he will be judged for his actions here.”

“Thank you.” Dorian began to lead her away, gently whispering the steps in her ear as his arms snaked around her waist to further support her in her quickly waning strength. She winced as his hand brushed her wound, but kept herself in check so as not to worry anyone. She’d been hurt before. She’d be fine. Before they had joined the rest of their party a large boom echoed through the hall, the doors at the end having apparently been thrown open and the cacophony of many armored boots ringing through the air. Ailynn nearly jumped out of skin, recent encounters far too fresh in her mind. “Viv-”

“Grand Enchanter. Imagine how surprised I was to learn you’d given over Redcliffe Castle to a Tevinter Magister.” The voice was strong, angry, and positively dripping with sarcasm.

“King Alistair-” Fiona stammered.

_Oh_ Ailynn tightened her grip on the hand that Dorian still held as shock and amazement flooded through her. _King Alistair?_ Bastard king of Ferelden, one of the heroes of the Fifth Blight, beloved of the incredible Kierna Cousland? _I wonder if now is a good time to ask for an autograph._

“Especially since I’m fairly sure Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagan.” Creators, but was she glad his ire was apparently not directed at her.

“Your Majesty, we never intended . . .” Fiona’s voice was desperate now.

“I know what you intended,” the king continued with a growl. “I wanted to help you, but you’ve made it impossible.” His voice, despite the anger, was full of regret. “You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden.”

“But we have hundreds who need protection! Where will we go?”

“To Haven.” Ailynn spoke before she had time to reconsider. There was a tense silence. “The Inquisition has need of mages to help us seal the Breach. Come with us.”

“And what are the terms of this arrangement?” Fiona finally asked.

“Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you.” Dorian replied swiftly. “The Inquisition _is_ better than that, yes?” The condescension coming from his mouth would have made Ailynn giggle if she hadn’t been fighting the growing pain in her ribs.

“It seems we have little choice but to accept your offer.” Fiona said.

Ailynn nodded. “Your help as allies in closing the Breach will not be forgotten, Grand Enchanter.”

“Allies?” Fiona thinly held the scoff out of her voice. “Will the rest of the Inquisition honor that statement?” 

“They will if they want the Breach to be sealed.” Several outraged gasps sounded from various sources around the room. Ailynn was doubly grateful for Dorian’s firm grasp on her now as she was no doubt the utter center of attention. “There is a giant Breach in the sky that has allowed demons to run amok in our world for weeks now. And what Dorian and I experienced through Alexius’ portal only further proves that should the Breach remain, the entire world will die for it.” She bit back a gasp as the pain sharpened. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. “Now is not the time to fight amongst ourselves.”

“I’d take that offer if I were you.” Alistair cut in. “One way or another, you’re leaving my kingdom.” The finality in his tone brooked no argument.

“We accept.” Ailynn allowed herself a small sigh of relief. “I will gather our people and meet you in Haven.” Her steps moved quickly away.

“Wait!” Dorian almost lost his grip when Ailynn lurched toward the receding mage. “Where is Talen?”

“Talen?”

“Talenansal. You said he had sent his regards, when you met us in Val Royeaux. Where is he?” Now it was her turn to be the desperate party.

Fiona said nothing, and the hope that had been fluttering in Ailynn’s chest tightened into fear as she fought to keep herself from panic. She was so close, she could practically feel him . . . 

“I will send him to you.” Joy exploded within her at Fiona’s words, and the mages last retreating steps were lost to her as she all but collapsed back into Dorian’s chest.

“Just who exactly are you to be able to offer the mages refuge in the name of the Inquisition? I ask because my wife would kill me if she found out I just gave the mages away to an enemy in disguise.” Alistair stepped closer.

“Forgive me, your Majesty, I’m-”

“Alistair!” Leliana interrupted, her voice sharp but also strangely eager.

“Leliana? Makers balls, I’d heard you were with the Inquisition, what are you doing here?” Alistair sounded eager as well, and there was the sound of two bodies coming together.

“Are they _hugging?_ ” Ailynn hissed to Dorian.

“I’m as shocked as you, darling, I assure you,” came his humorous reply.

“I was so relieved to hear you survived the explosion at the Conclave,” Ailynn could hear Alistair saying softly. “I know how hard it must be for you, but Maker help me if I’m selfish. I want my friends alive for as long as I can have them, and Kierna would have been utterly devastated if we lost you as well.” Leliana’s reply was much softer, her lyrical voice unintelligible. A small paper rustle sounded, followed by Alistair’s gasp and choked sob.

“They’re hugging again, just so you know. I thought he was going to outright kiss the girl for a moment.” Ailynn giggled at the idea, then promptly decided that had been a terrible idea as the muscles in her abdomen shuddered. Her giggle became a strangled cry, Dorian suddenly being pulled down to the ground as her feet refused to hold her up anymore. _How terribly rude of my legs,_ Ailynn thought dizzily to herself. She was vaguely aware of alarmed voices, hands tugging at her clothing.

“Where did _that_ come from?” Vivienne’s strong hands were at her side, tugging the clothing from the wound. _Must not have been bleeding,_ Ailynn realized. _Vivienne picked black leathers for this visit._ Leliana and Alistair were giving a string of commands to their respective troops, footsteps were running every which way in desperation. 

“Got hit as I came through,” Ailynn managed to cough out. “Spiked shield? Might have broken a rib or two when they tossed me into the throne.”

“No maybe about it, Boss. You’re lucky you’re still breathing, hit like that.” Bull rumbled as Vivienne pulled her jacket off. The jacket must have been keeping pressure on the wound, because the instant it was off Ailynn could feel blood seeping out of her, the floor becoming slick around her.

“But how did she acquire such an injury?” insisted Vivienne. “There hasn’t been any fighting!”

“Alexius’ portal sent us to the future. The portal we went through, then seemingly came back from moments later? We were gone for hours. She must’ve gotten hit right after I got pulled through it, damn it!” Dorian’s frustration was a sharp contrast to his gentle hands cradling her face as he supported her head on his lap. “Please tell me you have experience with healing?”

“Not enough for something like this. I am an alchemist and a Knight Enchanter, my dear, not a spirit healer.” Vivienne’s voice was soft. Ailynn whimpered as she probed the wound, striving with her whole being not to black out. Surely the wound wasn’t _that_ bad, was it? “Iron Bull, darling, I need your hands to keep pressure here.” 

Overly large hands were suddenly pressed tightly to her abdomen, and judging by the area they covered the wound had been much larger than she had realized. The added pressure on the wound was too much. The last of her control vanished, and she was dimly aware of the rawness in her throat as she released all her pain and rage and fear in one all-encompassing scream that shattered its way through the haze surrounding her.

And then her friends were gone. In a single moment, Vivienne’s hands disappeared from her side, Dorian’s lap was gone from beneath her head. Bull’s stayed pressed tightly to her abdomen, keeping the wound closed as a newcomer shoved the others out of the way swiftly and knelt beside her. Blessed coolness began to radiate in waves from her stab wound, fighting in slow pulses against the flame of pain in her body. She didn’t have the awareness to judge what was happening anymore, but she was filled with a sense of peace and comfort she hadn’t known for many years. Not since before Kirkwall. Not since her aunt had forbidden her from “distracting” Roaan, not since . . .

Voices began to once more come into reality around her and the floor was again beneath her limbs as her awareness grew. But where had Dorian and Vivienne gone?

“Don’t you dare try to sit up yet, da’len. Do it and I’ll cut off your braid, here and now, and I know it’d take you years to grow it to this length again.” There was a rage in that voice to match her own, but for all she cared the man speaking to her could have threatened her with certain death and she would still have been filled with utter joy. Gentle but insistent fingers prodded her side, and she could feel the wound closing quickly beneath those amazing, wonderful, >blessed fingers. Tears that had nothing to do with pain or sadness flooded from her eyes, and for the first time in her memory she cared not that others should see her weakness. Not even the King of Ferelden. Careful not to sit up, lest he act on his threat, she nonetheless managed to grasp his hand and pull the mage from her side until her was cradled against her, her arms around his neck and his crushing her to his chest. 

It felt like she’d come home. He smelled like warm candles and soft woods, gentle breezes and far away tides. Her world had fallen apart mere minutes before, and yet now she could feel the pieces coming back together. His arms slid around her and he gently lifted her up til they sat embracing on the floor.

“All these years, and this is how I find you? Ripped open and bleeding out on the floor? For shame ma’lin.” His voice was gentle, soothing despite the restrained anger. The shake in his words, as well as the tightness of his arms around her shoulders revealed the fear that his words tried to mask and betraying the depth of his emotions at their reunion. She shook with her sobs, every moment since the events at the Conclave, every horrendous moment in the future, all her fears and frustrations worth it to have his arms around her once more.

“Ma’serannas, ma’enansal,” she managed to choke out. Her hands shook as they sought his face, tracing the years that had separated them. There was so much _more_ there now, so much that she had missed, so many lines she didn’t recognize, yet despite the differences she still found _him._ The too-wide smile, the gentle corners of his eyes. Talen. _Finally._

“Not that this isn’t just lovely, but . . . who are you, exactly?” Dorian’s easy drawl came from behind her, and she felt Talen shift to look at the man while tightening his arms around her. Oh, but how she could live in this embrace!

“I’m the one that saved your precious ‘Herald,’ Vint.” He snapped. “Or have you forgotten that there is a real person of flesh and blood behind that title? I can’t say I’m impressed by the Inquisition’s care of it’s greatest asset. Had I not been here, she could have died!”

“Talenansal? From Kinloch?” Leliana spoke then. “Wynne’s apprentice?” Alistair made a sound of recognition at her last statement. “We owe you a debt of gratitude for what you have done, Talenansal. But why are you here, and why is the Herald not letting go of your neck?” Ailynn was pleased at the note of amusement in Leliana’s voice, grateful that the Nightingale wasn’t planning retribution for his outburst. Most likely.

“I am here because a spirit healer can do the most good where the worst is happening. I am _here,_ because while I can’t heal someone from so massive a wound in one go, I can certainly keep her from death’s door much better than any of you. As to Ailynn?” He paused, carefully scooping Ailynn into his arms as he stood. “I’m sure my dear baby sister is reassuring herself that I am truly here.” The tenderness in his voice, the gentle hold he had on her was bliss. 

“Sister?” Leliana’s surprise was echoed by the gasps from several in the room, presumably mages and Inquisition alike at the unexpected relation to each of their own.

Talen didn’t deign to respond directly to the unspoken question. “Are you camped somewhere nearby? I don’t want to take up any more of the king’s hospitality, but she needs rest before we can return to your base at Haven.”

“So this is the Herald, then?” spoke Alistair. “Leliana, if you can get the rest of the mages to Haven, or at least on their way as quickly as possible, I don’t mind if the Herald and her friends need a few days to recuperate. I’m sure I can talk my uncle down from his fit about a few mages staying behind if I fling enough Chantry babble at him.”

There was a flurry of voices around her, but Ailynn lost track of the conversation as the exhaustion of the last several hours and the wound took their toll. With a small sigh, she resigned herself to oblivion, aware only of the safety and love in the arms that carried her from hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I suck at doing translations for you guys, but basically she calls Talen her blessing and he calls her his blood. Both pulled from each others names. Cause I like to pretend I'm clever and shit ^.^ if you want to know more about these lovelies, check out my tumblr therutherfordwife


	8. And Then There Were Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ailynn and Talen return to Haven together with some new friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update! I am currently horribly blocked over on LB and it's swim season so I'm also constantly exhausted, but this popped into my head so you can look forward to a few more chapters over the next few days ^.^ things get interesting from here on!

She came to awareness slowly, feeling like her body had been plowed under by a herd of horses. _Did I try to sleep behind a Carta warehouse again?_ she wondered fuzzily. With slow and careful movements, she reached down and gently probed her fingers across her abdomen where the worst of the pain was. _Dried blood,_ she felt it flake away under her fingers, _possibly a broken rib or two, and . . . damn, yeah, that’s a hell of a gash, judging from the stitches. Wonder who I pissed off for that._

A roar of laughter from nearby almost made her jump out of her skin. _What the fuck, Bull!_ she thought angrily.

Oh. Bull. Vivienne, Dorian. Redcliffe. Inquisition.

_Talen_.

Ignoring her lingering pain and taking only the time to make sure she wasn’t fully naked, Ailynn burst from the tent towards Bull’s lingering chuckles and the soft murmur of voices. She hadn’t gone three steps when a hand grabbed her around the wrist, bringing her to a sudden stumbling halt and then promptly dragging her backwards into her tent.

She struggled against the iron grip. “No! I have to go, I have to see -”

“You can’t _see_ anything, you twit, and the only place you’re going is back to bed.” She was pushed roughly onto her pile of furs, still warm from her own body heat. Not that she cared, mind. Every piece of anxiety and fear she had held onto so tightly for years trickled out of her the second she head that voice.

_”Talen,”_ she whispered, his name barely audible as her throat choked with emotion. “Talen, ma’enansal.” She reached up with her left hand, searching for what she knew was just above her and felt a large hand grasp hers and guide her fingers to his face.

“Ma’lin,” Talen said, voice filled with emotion. There was a rustling and then his forehead was pressed to hers, and they breathed deeply together before Ailynn threw her arms around his neck and pulled him practically on top of her. He let out an undignified squawk of surprise before chuckling warmly in her ear. “Ailynn, I can’t breathe,” he complained.

“You don’t need to breathe.”

“Ailynn!” he wriggled out of her arms, careful not to put any pressure on her abdomen. 

She didn’t entirely let go, only let him draw away to where he could sit while she ran her fingers across the familiar and unfamiliar lines of his face. _I’ve missed so much,_ she thought, mouth twisting down into a slight frown at what she felt. He was softer around the eyes and harder around the mouth, as if he spent too much time holding back words. “Your hair’s gotten so long!” she exclaimed, tugging at the locks playfully until he pulled her hands away.

“Stop that. You’re supposed to be resting, Ailynn. You did in fact almost die in Redcliffe.” His voice was tight as he spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You shouldn’t have been put in danger like that. When I heard who the Herald was, I begged the Grand Enchanter to let me go to you; I had no idea you’d come to us instead. Finding you in a pool of blood and having to heal you of wounds no one could explain was _not_ how I wanted to be reunited with my baby sister. I can’t believe they pulled you into all of this!”

“You’re an hour older than me, I’m not your ‘baby’ anything. And I _had_ to go, I’m told they can’t really fake a rift in my hand!” She waved the offending limb at him, then felt her energy wane suddenly. “Why am I so tired?” 

“Because you’re healing.” A hand was pressed into her side, and a strangely penetrating cooling sensation soothed the deep ache she’d been attempting to ignore. “We’ll be back in Haven tomorrow. Rest, Ailynn. I’m looking after you now.”

There was a gentle press of lips to her forehead. “Talen?”

“Hmm?”

“Stay with me?”

His hand slipped into hers. “Always, ma’lin.”

 

Ailynn smelled Haven sometime after they stopped for a quick noon meal. The familiar scents of the smithy mingling with the tang of metal from the soldiers and the sootiness from the fires. As they got closer she could hear the rhythmic calling of the Commander as he trained his troops, and couldn’t help the small smile that curled the corners of her mouth.

Cullen did not, however, make an appearance as they handed their horses off to Horsemaster Dennet, nor did he approach as Talen and Dorian escorted her to her cabin.

“Dorian, will you stop and ask Threnn if it will be possible to get another bed in here?” Ailynn called after she’d eagerly shown them both around the small cabin. Then she frowned. “Actually, ask for two. You need a place to stay as well, don’t you?”

“Yes, though I’m not certain I should share a cabin with the Herald of Andraste. Vint prejudices being what they are, not to mention the added scandal of a woman living with two men.”

“A man who happens to be my brother and a man who has no interest in women? I would think Talen would be more affected by your staying here.” There was a long silence. “Anyone who argues the fact gets a holy punch to the face, ok? And if you don’t talk to Threnn, I’ll go straight to Leliana and have her take care of it.”

“You, darling, are pure evil.” A kiss landed on her cheek. “And I love you for it. No need to pester the Nightingale, I’ll go speak with the quartermaster now.” His sure steps faded and a door was shut.

Talen, meanwhile, had been exploring. “Ailynn, what are these?”

She turned her head towards his question, hearing the click of her chest and the rustle of cloth. “Gifts from Madame Vivienne. From Val Royeaux. She said that if I am to represent Andraste, I need to look the part next time I go to a place like that.”

“You went to Val Royeaux?” there was a sad sort of wistfulness in Talen’s voice she couldn’t place. 

“Yes? Apparently Lord Seeker Lucius punched a Revered Mother, but if you want the details you’ll have to talk to Cassandra. Varric was too busy laughing and Solas disappeared when the templars showed up.”

Talen was silent for a long while. Finally, there was a sigh. “Well. You’re certainly more well-travelled than I am at this point. Now, are you going to tell me about what’s happened to you, or do I have to guess?”

Ailynn froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Nug shit. You’re malnourished, you’ve got scars from Creators know what all over you, and you’ve somehow managed to get yourself infected with the sort of wasting disease I’ve only ever dealt with in Denerim’s Alienage. You’re fine now, by the way, and you’re welcome. What _happened,_ Ailynn? Why aren’t you with the clan? Why were you at the Conclave to begin with?” The bitter anger in his words hit her like a slap.

“I -”

“Ailynn, you’re wanted in the war room!” called Dorian as he burst through the door, saving her from having to answer. “Your Nightingale has deceptively sharp claws, by the way, and your templar is raging fit to burn the Chantry. I don’t think he appreciates the alliance you’ve made with the mages.”

“Shit.” She covered her face in her hands. She’d forgotten about Cullen’s reaction to the mages. That probably explained why he’d avoided her during their arrival. “Talen, come with me?” she implored, holding a hand out to him.

“Of course.” He took her hand and they made their way to the Chantry.

Their arrival was met with an uproar. Six different voices, all bickering and bursting and trying to be heard first or, barring that, apparently deciding that whomever was loudest was the most important. Cassandra and Cullen arguing for restrictions on the mages, Leliana calling for them to honor their alliance, Josephine agreeing reluctantly while Fiona angrily defended the rebel mages and Dorian tried to get a word in edgewise to explain his presence. Talen stood quietly behind her, one hand wrapped in hers and another wrapped around her waist in case her energy flagged.

“Enough!” Ailynn finally yelled, surprising the room to silence with the volume of noise her small body could produce. “Enough. The mages are here, it’s done with and we can’t change it now. And I will not work with conscripts, so if you want to try to go back on the alliance, I’ll just take them and we’ll close the Breach without you. You’ve all said before that our goals are closing the Breach and finding whoever opened it, right? Does this not take us towards this goal?”

“Can a mage even power your mark?” Josephine asked quickly, cutting off several other utterances.

Ailynn squeezed Talen’s hand; they’d tested it that morning. “Yes.”

“And you can control it when it is powered so?” asked Cassandra.

“Yes.”

“‘Control’ is such a precise term; ‘direct’ might be a better explanation, my dear.”

“I don’t think you’re one to talk, seeing as the Herald was forced to take the mages from your own mentor, Vint,” growled Cullen.

_Ooh, he’s pissed,_ Ailynn realized with dread. “He saved me, Cullen, he saved everyone. Without him I would never have made it back through Alexius’ portal.”

“I am afraid Madame de Fer’s report was unclear as to where the portal sent you, Herald. She seemed to be under the impression you went into the future?” Leliana’s soft voice quickly jumped onto the change of topic.

“Yes.” Damn it, why was she trembling? It was over, done with. But what she’d heard, what had happened -

Talen spoke for the first time. “Madame de Fer’s report was accurate. Dorian and I vetted it ourselves. If you wish to know anything more, I’m sure your questions can be better answered by Dorian at a later time.” He leaned forward, just enough for his chest to rest against her back and Ailynn leaned gratefully into the steadying contact.

“And just who exactly are _you_ , elf?” snarled Cassandra. “And what gives you the right to be so protective of our Herald?”

It almost seemed as if he enlarged behind her, pulling to his full height and allowing his mana to be felt by all in the room with the power to understand it. She heard several sharp intakes of breath around her. “I am Talenansal of Clan Lavellan, spirit healer trained under Wynne in Kinloch. I am a veteran of the Fifth Blight and a healer of the plague of the Denerim Alienage, and no one has more right to protect my twin sister than I.”

Ailynn listened almost rapturously to Talen’s speech; he’d never been so outspoken to others, and the effect was . . . wonderous. His words had force, but weren’t forceful, and he held power, but did not use it as a weapon.

Her brother, her other half, had somehow found himself while she wasn’t there to help him.

Part of her was inordinately proud, of course. But part of her was saddened. They’d been apart for so long now; he was still her safe place, but was she still his peace?

“Twin . . . sister?” Cullen asked softly.

“Is that an issue, Ser Cullen?”

“Not from me, Talen.”

Ailynn’s ears perked at their halting familiarity. “You two know each other?” she asked incredulously.

“We were briefly at Kinloch together. It is more of a passing acquaintance than a friendship, I’m afraid.”

“Come now, _Ser,_ I think once you’ve threatened someone with Tranquility there’s a certain level of familiarity we can claim.”

_”What?”_ Ailynn cried out. Cullen? He wouldn’t have . . . would he? She thought back to what she knew of him from Kirkwall and came to a grim conclusion.

Yes. He absolutely would have. She opened her mouth to say . . . something, she didn’t know what, when the Grand Enchanter cut her off. “When can we be expected to seal the Breach?”

Ailynn set herself as strongly as she could. _No more wasting time,_ she told herself.

“Tonight.”


	9. Chapter 9

Ailynn groaned, the sound echoing strangely around her before tapering into a pained gasp. Trembling fingers slipped through the tear in her tunic and confirmed that she’d torn her stitches, her fingertips trailing the sticky wetness of blood. Her head pounded relentlessly, and her shoulder was wrenched horribly. “Talen?” she coughed, each spasm ripping through her. “Cullen?”

The hollow echo was the only response to her calls. _What happened?_ she thought groggily. She’d been . . . in Haven. They’d sealed the Breach, then returned to the small town. Talen had ushered her to bed, only for Varric and Bull to come and kidnap her to the celebration. Vivienne had rescued her to a quiet corner and then helped her to the gate when the attack -

_Oh._

She pushed herself up so that she was sitting. Cullen had carried her to the Chantry once Cole had delivered his warning, not caring one wit that she was perfectly capable of defending herself, thank you very much. It hadn’t been until the dragon had roared overhead that she’d begun to agree that she had no business being in this battle. Listening to panicked soldiers describe a losing battle, knowing that Talen, Dorian, Varric, all her new friends were fighting was one of the worst experiences she’d ever had. And then finding out from Cole that they would only stop if they had her?

Devastating.

Talen and the others had burst into the Chantry not seconds earlier, and to say that they protested her determination to distract their enemy was an understatement. Talen had grabbed her shoulders and shook her like a doll, yelling at her for her perceived lack of self-preservation until she’d agreed to an escort. They were going to drop an avalanche on haven with the last trebuchet, hoping to catch the enemy off guard. The plan had worked fairly well until the dragon came back.

An explosion of heat. Screams from her friends, several shouts for help and desperate calls that the trebuchet was aligned before it became apparent that nobody could reach it. The panicked rise of Talen’s voice when he realized that they were separated from Ailynn by a field of fire and . . . a dragon.

Ailynn almost lost her footing when the beast landed and the ground shook like an earthquake. It smelled of sulfur and fire, overwhelming her senses and causing her to choke and gag even as her wrist was caught in an iron grip and she was lifted from the ground. “Talen! Go!” she’d screamed, still hearing his frightened shouts. “Bull! Take him! GO!” Talen’s yells cut off abruptly.

The rest had passed in a blur. She could barely hear anything over her own choking, and the way she was being held was overwhelmingly painful. It had been like she was nothing but a small child, and when he’d thrown her after it became plain that her ‘Anchor’ could not be removed from her hand, she’d flown farther than any normal person could have thrown her.

She’d landed hard, smashing against something solid and wooden and heard a _snap_ of rope as she hit, the groan of objects moving heavily followed by a dull impact echoing through the valley. Her attacker, _Corypheus,_ escaped with his dragon.

Ailynn had pushed herself desperately away from the approaching roar, taken a hit from something behind her, and had lost her grip on consciousness.

Now she almost wished she was _still_ unconscious. At least then she would hurt less.

She forced herself to take slow, even breaths as she took stock of herself. Her throat felt like it’d been burned, a result of inhaling the dragon’s fumes, and her shoulder was . . . wrong, somehow. Her head was pounding fit to start a drumline, and on top of her torso being ripped open again, she was fairly certain her wrist and several ribs were broken.

Talen was going to _kill_ her.

Hot, angry tears fell down her cheeks. She was alone and injured . . . somewhere. From the echoes, it was possible she was in a cave, but if that was true then she knew neither where the cave was nor how she’d ended up inside it. And if the avalanche had done what it was supposed to, and buried Haven, odds are that she was buried too. Given what had happened, she doubted anyone would be coming to look for her even if there was anyone left _to_ look for her after the evacuation. They probably thought the dragon had killed her, or the avalanche, or Corypheus himself if anyone had seen him. She prayed that they’d focused on the evacuation instead, even though it meant she had no hope of help.

If all went well, she’d been abandoned.

 _Get off your ass, Ailynn, and stop obsessing over things you can’t change,_ she scolded herself. _One step at a time. Start with getting up._ It was no different from waking up after a beating in Kirkwall, really. Of course, she’d usually been able to drag herself to Anders’ clinic, and that was definitely off the table for this situation. Moving carefully, she managed to scoot herself until she hit a wall and brace herself up to her feet. Her legs trembled like a newborn’s, but otherwise seemed sound.

Keeping her right hand on the wall, she took a cautious step forward. Relief burst in her chest, overwhelming relief when she managed not to stumble. Another tentative step, another deep breath, another success. 

She stopped to press her hand to her side, gasped when she unthinkingly tried to do so with her left hand that instantly burst with pain. _Idiot,_ she growled to herself. Her whole hand felt swollen and limp, and she was loathe to take her right hand off of the wall to check if she was still bleeding. If she’d been bleeding since she fell . . . There was no way to know how long she’d been unconscious. The effort of these few steps already had her feeling dizzy, and she couldn’t decide if it was her possible concussion or blood loss. Fighting the urge to panic, she took another step, slightly faster than the ones before.

Her knee collided with a rock. Frustration, pain, and panic forced a scream of protest from her throat as she forced herself not to collapse to her knees. If she did . . .

She might not stand again.

Her whole body trembled violently. She would have to bend down, see if she could find the rock she’d struck, and see if she could feel her way around it and hope that she hadn’t started out stumbling right into a dead end. Just as she gathered the courage to bend, a noise behind her brought her head whipping around. 

Frantic steps, the rattling of armor, and a relieved exhale reached her ears and she gasped in shock as she realized who was approaching her. She’d recognize those steps, that armor even if she was dead.

“Cullen?!” No. It was a trick, a horrible delusion brought on by her exhausted mind and broken body.

“Ailynn! Maker, you shouldn’t be moving in your condition, are you alright?” a hand braced against her lower back and another caught under her right arm, and she pressed herself against his breastplate in shocked relief.

“Cullen,” to her embarrassment, she started sobbing, great wracking sobs as she realized _she wasn’t alone._ This was _real._

“Ailynn!” His arms held her tightly as she collapsed to the floor. “Ailynn, what hurts? Can you tell me where the worst of the pain is?” Tightly restrained panic in his voice.

“Ribs,” she coughed out. Instantly he changed his grip, holding her so that the pressure of his arm was across her shoulders and her head could loll in the crook of his neck. “You smell like dragon,” she mumbled.

“I imagine we both do,” he gave a forced chuckle. “I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to wake up while I was gone, I was trying to see if I could find the end of this cave.”

“Cave? What cave?”

“The last trebuchet was built next to the old mining shaft. When the dragon flew off to escape the avalanche, I was able to throw us both in here before the snow hit us.”

“Oh.” That made . . . sense. Sort of. It was hard to get her mind working. Remembering the others, she jolted in Cullen’s grasp. “What happened to Talen? Oh, Creators, are Bull and Blackwall alright? The dragon, I heard it land and then Talen was screaming and then he wasn’t and -”

 

“They’re fine,” Cullen interrupted. “Bull dragged Talen back to the Chantry, and when they told me you’d been separated from them I made them head for Rodrick’s path and I . . .” Ailynn felt him tense under her. “I came to get you.”

Ailynn could feel the lump in her throat. No one had ever come back for her; sometimes because they weren’t able to, she knew, but often the case had simply been that no one cared enough to find her when she was lost. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He snorted. “Don’t thank me yet. We’re still stuck in a cave in the freezing cold and you’re in no shape to travel.”

“Pessimist.”

_”Realist.”_

Ailynn sighed. He was right, to a point. In shape to travel or not however they couldn’t stay here. “Help me up,” she said, and when Cullen didn’t move she stubbornly pushed against his arms to lift herself, trying her hardest to contain any groans of pain. “We need to find the others.”

“We don’t even know if there’s another exit to these caves, let alone where any such exit might lead us. We could end up on the complete wrong side of the mountain!”

“We won’t.”

“How can you know?”

“Because the Creators can’t possibly hate me that much.”

Cullen snorted a laugh at that, and she grinned tightly even as they began to slowly make their way forward, Cullen staying steady behind her with his chest pressed to her back, his right hand tight but not too tight on her right wrist and his left steady on her hip.

They walked like that for ages, or so Ailynn believed. Neither spoke; the air was getting colder, and while Ailynn couldn’t speak for Cullen, she was too exhausted for conversation.

She stopped abruptly. “Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?”

Ailynn took a deep breath. “Fresh air. Snow. I think we’re almost out!”

Barely had she finished speaking when her left hand crackled with energy. She barely felt the pain anymore, between all her other hurts and the cold, for which she was grateful. There was a whisper of movement ahead of them and then two shrill screams of despair demons erupted.

Ailynn found herself on the ground and could only listen to the steely sound of Cullen drawing his sword and advancing away from her. “Cullen! No!” He was tired and would be forced to focus on protecting her instead of concentrating only on the fight. She counted two impacts, then heard a distinct grunt of pain before her panic got the better of her and she tried to jump to his aid.

“Cullen!” she crumpled before she even made it to her feet. In desperation, she reached out with her left hand, ignoring the pain of doing so and screamed in impotent rage.

Energy exploded from her hand and the sounds of fighting abruptly ended. Ailynn forced her hand closed and the energy stopped, and she rolled on her back clutching her hand to her chest with a small whimper.

“Ailynn, are you alright? What _was_ that?” Cullen’s hands were steadying her as she forced herself to calm down.

“I don’t know, it’s never done that before.”

“Perhaps it’s because of the magic we poured into it to close the Breach,” Cullen mused. “Are you alright to move? I think the exit’s just around the corner.”

She groaned. “No, but let’s go. I don’t like the way these tunnels sound.”

The sound she didn’t like, it turned out, was the echo of bitter winds sweeping into the mines, spurned by the blizzard outside. When the first gust struck them, she flinched back into Cullen with a gasp of shock. “What the actual fuck?” she hissed. “Are you kidding me?”

Cullen was silent but tense, and his breathing was harsh in her ear. “Cullen, how bad is it?” she asked in a small voice.

He was silent for almost too long. “Snow up to you knees with more falling faster than it can settle.”

 _I can’t do this,_ Ailynn’s mind spun. Twice, _twice_ now she had been left behind and forced away from those she cared about by blizzards. She’d told Cullen the Creators couldn’t possibly hate her so much; they seemed determined to prove her wrong. _Either that or the Dread Wolf has already claimed me._

“We can do this, Ailynn. There’s a light up on the ridge, it’s only a few miles away. It’ll be hard, but we can make it.”

He’s so earnest, so eager that Ailynn lets him push them forward until her legs sink into the snow and it’s all she can do not to collapse in on herself in the cold. It isn’t long before her thoughts shrink down to one simple phrase, repeated endlessly.

_Don’t stop walking._

The wind howls. Wolves join their voices to the wind’s call, and Ailynn shivers for the first time from something other than the cold. _Fen’Harel comes for his prey,_ her delirious mind babbles.

All at once, after what feels like hours of walking, Ailynn shudders and finds herself pressed deep into the snow. _It’s so soft,_ she thinks. _I can rest here._ A voice, strong and insistent, tries to pull her back to wakefulness. “Let me sleep, Cullen,” she whimpers.

“Damn it, Ailynn, we’re almost there, don’t quit on me now! We have to keep going!”

But she doesn’t want to anymore. She can’t feel the snow, can’t feel the cold or the wind. She’s warm for the first time since she woke in that cave. Surely a quick nap won’t hurt? They can search for the Inquisition later. Talen will come looking for her, she knows he will, and if they’re so close they can wait where they are. 

She’s so tired.

She gives herself up to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm breaking theme in the next chapter, and you're going to get a conglomeration of different viewpoints, starting with Cullen so that you can get his take on what just happened ^.^ should be up in a few days, will probably be the last update for a while though :P


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